The Curse Of Veronica
by Shady-777
Summary: Veronica Ashford is back, & the RE gang find themselves stranded on a mystical island where they are hunted by strange creatures. Can they stop this powerful new foe before dimensions collide & the earth is altered forever? CHAPTER 32 Available!
1. Vacation on Majika Island

**_A/N: _**This is my 3rd major Resident Evil fic and part of my ongoing Resident Evil series. If you have not seen any of my other works before this fic is going to confuse you. It is highly suggested that you read my other fics, either" A New Tide" or " Crimson Africa", before this one if you really want to understand the background to my characters as well as what I have put the others through and the premises of the story. 

This fic will have a host of frightening new monsters as well as time travel and magic, and stars Chris, Jill, Claire, Steve, Alan, Alexis, and some others along with the Ashfords, Wesker, and, of course, Veronica, though you will see more familiar characters appear along the course of the story. ;) Spoilers for the entire Resident Evil series. Cursing will be kept to a minimum and only when circumstances call for it. 

Oh, and another thing I should add, Leon, Ada, and Billy do not appear in this story or any others I have posted so if you're reading fics for the Leon, Ada, or Billy content you've come to the wrong place. Sorry! 

**Ok, time for the disclaimer thingie: **You are completely nuts if you think I own Resident Evil. It is property of Shinji Mikami and the Capcom crew. I do, however, own my story and OC's including Alan Wesker. I write this story for entertainment purposes only and am making no profit from it. Of course, being this is Fanfiction.Net, you probably already knew all this. ^^;; Just making sure.

****

Chapter 1

The warm trade winds swept gently over Majika Island bearing the lush, fruit-laden scent of a tropical paradise. Palms trees swayed to and fro with the breeze, now and again dropping their precious coconuts to the grateful creatures which frequented the atoll. Birds of every description sang merrily in sweet voices seemingly attune to the dull roar of the clear blue waves rolling on and off the land. 

The isle even had it's very own volcano: Mt. Fulcan, which rose like a pointed black witch's hat from the very center of the island itself adding a magical quality to the entire area.

Claire inhaled deeply, enjoying the sensation of the warm sand sifting between her toes while she leaned into Steve, who was dressed for the weather in a pair of baggy green shorts with a thin white sleeveless shirt.

" This was the perfect idea for a vacation," She purred, happier than she could remember being in a long time, " While everyone else is dealing with snowstorms, power-outages, and treacherous driving conditions, we get to relax in the tropics where it never gets below seventy degrees." She shut her eyes, the sounds of the sea lulling her into a tranquil state of nirvana.

A wave slid in and came only a few feet away from touching her feet.

Steve grinned, wrapping an arm around his new wife and running a hand through her soft ruddy-brown hair in a gesture of affection.

" Eh, normally I'm not much for islands being that the last one I was on nearly killed me, but this place is nothing like Rockfort. I mean the scenery alone…it's so much nicer here." He paused, green eyes drifting up to acknowledge a flawless blue sky. He had never felt so at peace. Like he could just lye there in the sand next to Claire forever; never wishing it to end. " Actually, it's Alexis we should be thanking. It was her idea we go here after the wedding."

Claire laughed softly in response, bringing her pretty face up to give her hubby a kiss on the cheek. " Yep, I'm not a Redfield anymore. I…."

The rest of Claire's words were murdered when a sudden splash of water hit her head, drenching her bangs and bringing an unwelcome sting of coldness to her skin.

" Ooops! Sorry Aunt Claire." Seth's small and innocent voice sounded.

The little five year old was standing to her side holding a small purple beach pale now less than a quarter the way filled with saltwater. He backed away nervously, afraid she might snap at him. _Why did it have to be Aunt Claire?_

He'd been running along the surf looking for his sister when he'd stumbled over a piece of driftwood left thoughtlessly in his path. " Have you seen Kwistle? Or Uncle Alan? "

Claire shook her head and sighed, a bit perturbed with her nephew. " They're probably with your parents just over that way." She pointing off to the right where she knew the Redfields to be camping not a quarter mile off. _Who exactly was watching him anyway? _Frowning, she wiped her face against her hand. 

Having a bunch of cold water thrown in your face when you were lying on the beach in your bathing suite trying to get a tan was not the best of feelings.

Seth tilted his head to the side, displaying the same curious and confused expression Claire often saw her brother get when he couldn't figure something out.

_Like father like son_. She thought, remembering Chris when he was little. Of course, no matter how little Chris had been he'd always been bigger than her. Older, too. 

And she thought it was indeed cute the way that even at such a young age Seth was already starting to mirror his father a bit. His face had the same basic shape despite a bit of a different slant, his bowl-cut hair only a shade lighter brown than Chris's rich chocolate brown and flecked with bit of red highlights borrowed from his mother.

Oddly enough, his eyes were a warm fudge brown inherited from some unknown relative since neither of his parents possessed them.

Today he was clad in blazing orange beach shorts complimented with a long white Power Rangers tee.

Despite her annoyance with being splashed, Claire thought her looked very huggable. Slowly, her initial frown was replaced by a friendly smile.

Reassured in the fact that Claire wasn't going to bite him, Seth asked the question he'd been meaning to ask for the past hour. " Did the stork land yet? When will my little cousin be here? "

Steve snorted with laughter.

Claire shook her head, her cheeks flushing a weird variation of red that reminded her nephew of a drink adults called 'wine'. 

" Oh no, I'm afraid not Seth. That won't be happening for a long time yet." 

Seth frowned; he was quite excited with the concept of getting a new cousin and he didn't like to wait. " Oh, you mean like a few _weeks_? " He stumbled over the word, feeling it stick in his mouth with a bad taste. 

A week was a long time. He hated the word _week_.

Claire shook her head again, but this time she was smiling. " No, not for another six months at least."

" _Months?!" _The young Redfield was horrified, " Ya mean _longer _than weeks? "

This time it was Steve who answered, " Yes. Much longer."

" Can't ya speed it up? Tell the stork to hurry? " 

Much to Seth's astonishment his aunt and uncle just laughed and looked at each other. _What's so funny? _He thought, _Grownups are so weird._

" It isn't something that can be rushed," Claire explained, " The stork has to pick out just the right baby for each mommy and daddy before he can deliver. It takes a long time."

Seth emptied the remaining water of his bucket and watched it seep into the ground; staining the sand it touched a darker color. " But what if he picks a baby you don't like? What if it's the wrong kind? Like a baby monkey? "

" You've been watching too many cartoons." His aunt chuckled, sitting up and stretching. Blinking in the bright glare of the sun, she fished around in her duffle bag and pulled out a nice pair of sunglasses. " Mommies don't get to choose what their babies look like, and I can pretty safely say you're not going to have a baby monkey for a cousin."

" You kidding? " Steve piped, grinning, " He's already got a monkey for a cousin."

Seth cocked an eyebrow. " I do? " His eyes lit up. _A monkey for a cousin? _His lively mind swam with the fun possibilities.

Steve nodded all seriously. " Sure. His name's Alan."

Now Seth was _really_ confused. " But….Alan's my uncle, and he's not a monkey…."

" Actually, the guy you so affectionately dub as 'Uncle' Alan is really your cousin." He reached inside the duffle bag and produced a brightly-colored bottle of sunscreen , " I'm your real uncle."

Seth shook his head. " He's my uncle if I say he is! " He shouted defiantly.

Steve squirted the white sunscreen onto one arm and began rubbing it in, a thought forming. 

He looked to Claire. " Wait a minute, if you're Alan's aunt 'cause, y'know, his mother was your sister and all, and I'm married to you, wouldn't that make me his uncle as well? " The thought was quite weird indeed and just a little unnerving.

Claire bit her lower lip, processing. " You're right. But how would you like to have Wesker for a brother-in-law? Wait, I forgot, you sorta do." At this both adults frowned.

_And the strangeness continues_…." Wait, who's Wesker? " Seth wondered, baffled by the way adults were always talking about people he didn't know

Before either Claire or Steve had time to reply, a familiar voice Seth had come to know and love answered, " Why, that's _my_ daddy. Don't you remember? The guy that kinda looks like me? The one you almost followed a potato bug to? "

Seth turned to see his 'Uncle' Alan coming up behind him, flashing him a cool grin.

" Uncle Alan! " He launched himself at his relative.

Alan caught him and lifted him up. " Hiya Sport."

On instinct Seth reached out and pulled Alan's shades off his face, hoping the were all red and yellow and pretty-looking again. 

They were. 

Alan blinked in the sunlight, the bright glare hurting his sensitive eyes. " Hey I need those." Gently, he snatched his aviators from Seth's small hands and replaced them along the bridge of his nose.

There. That felt loads better.

" And actually, I'm more like your cousin." He corrected, setting the kid back down and giving him a friendly pat on the head.

Actually, he thought it was rather cute the way Seth referred to him as an uncle. _Ah kids. They're so sweet and innocent when they're little._

" But Uncle Steve said you were a monkey."

At this Alan arched an eyebrow at Steve, who didn't even flinched.

Instead he mad a face at his new in-law. " Yeee, how could you wear something hot like that in eighty-five degree weather? " He remarked, studying Alan's wardrobe of black jeans, black T-shirt, and black boots. In fact, Steve thought, the guy hardly ever wore any other color.

" I'm cold-blooded." Alan said simply, sounding so much like his father just then that it creeped Claire out.

Steve shook his head, snorting as a piece of sand blew up his nose, " It must be the T-2, Virus Boy, because I'd feel like one well-done steak."

Alan shrugged, knowing that it probably _was_ his virus that caused him to be colder than normal all the time. He didn't mind though; it seemed a small price to pay for superpowers. 

Locking his eyes on Steve, he played with the idea of giving his comrade a free swimming lesson.

Claire smiled lightly, shaking her head and casting her eyes down. Steve and Alan always went round and round.

Steve laughed, rising up to the unspoken challenge, " Yep. You must be cold-blooded like a snake, Wesker Junior. Betray anyone lately? "

There was no warning. 

One moment Alan was standing a few feet away behind Seth, and the next he wasn't.

The others barely had time to blink before Steve was sailing overhead like a giant awkward bird. He landed with an audible 'kersplash' twenty feet out into the water.

Alan just grinned, standing where Steve had been only moments before and rubbing his hands together as if he'd just finished taking out the trash. 

" I warned him about calling me Wesker Junior." He announced smugly, not an ounce of hatred or ill will in his voice, making plainly obvious that he was just playing.

" Whoa cool! Do that to me! " Seth raced up and grabbed Alan's pantleg. " My turn! My turn! "

In his excitement he dropped his bucket and knocked over Steve's Mountain Dew.

" Can't do, sorry. You don't know how to swim."

The boy's eyes dimmed and he looked out to sea longingly, no doubt wishing he were a fish. 

He looked so sad, in fact, that Alan felt like a mean old ogre for dashing his hopes. " Hey," He offered, " I'll give you a ride to your parents."

All the fire blossomed back into Seth's eyes instantly. " A ride! Oh boy, will ya run really fast? "

Alan nodded, glowing his eyes for effect since he knew his little pal liked seeing it. " Yep. For you I'll go fast. You'll feel like you're flying. It'll be so fun! "

Reaching down he scooped his little cousin up and held him straight out in front of him in a position that would quickly tire the arms of a non-virus carrier.

Seth was thrilled. " Oh boy! I getta fly! "

Claire shot Alan a nervous glance, a bit of her maternal instincts kicking in. "Are you sure that's safe? "

Alan looked almost offended by the remark. Like he'd ever let anything happen to Seth.

" Don't worry, Careful is part of my middle name."

" Where? Before or after the _Wesker_ part? " She mused, enjoying the chance to poke fun at her super-powered relative.

Alan pressed his lips together in a tight line and gave them a slight twist. " You know, one of these days I'm going to find out something really embarrassing about your family and then you're _never_ going to live it down."

Claire just smiled and reached for a pop; her worry passed.

Alan zoomed off along the beach like a rocket, Seth squealing with delight.

******************************************************************** 

Chris kicked backed in his beach chair, enjoying the warm weather and the sounds of his daughter Crystal having fun. 

Alexis was helping her build a sandcastle. It was slow progress because toddlers don't build sandcastles very well and every so often he'd hear Alexis say something like, " No! That's the moat, we don't put dirt in there! " or, " How are the sand people going to keep a good lookout without a few watch towers? "

It was really quite comical, and the captain of the Bayview S.T.A.R.S. truly was enjoying his warm vacation away from work and the freaky.

Jill was off digging for oysters not far from where Alexis and Crystal were, and every now and again Chris would see her pull up one of the sea-critters and toss it into a large plastic sack.

A few yards over to the right and even closer to the trees was their jet, the means by which they'd reached the remote island paradise. 

No crowds, no lines, no waiting--it was just them and nature, the way Chris preferred. He always was the outdoorsman.

He thought he saw a fish jump in the surf and reminded him of his fishing gear he'd left in the jet. _I'll bet I catch some big ones. _He thought, thinking of his oceanrod fishing pole and all the various hooks, lures, and baits he had at his disposal.

Whenever he could, Chris enjoyed time at a large body of water such as a lake or river just kicking back and drowning a few worms. Just him and the wilderness. It was more than just catching fish, it was a chance to relax and get in touch with his inner self.

It was his chance to--for a moment, just a moment--forget about all the worries and responsibilities that plagued him and just have fun doing something he enjoyed. For him, fishing equaled sanity. If it weren't for days like this sometimes he thought he'd be a nervous wreck.

Stretching, he sat up in his seat, ready to head out and start the fishing. He nearly leapt two feet when a blur of black flew up from seemingly out of nowhere and came to a halt in front of him.

_Calm down, calm down_. Chris told himself as he looked at the young man in fron of him, _It's just Alan. Not Wesker. _Even though for three months Alan had proved to be a valuable part of the team, and even though Chris was even starting to get used to his superhuman abilities, Alan still bore an strong resemblance to his father; who just happened to be Chris's worst enemy. When he just zipped up unexpected like that it reminded Chris of his fights with Wesker, namely the time at the Antarctic base where he had been lucky to escape with his life, and the incident involving a pipe being rammed through his stomach even more recently.

Fortunately, in the trip to Africa, Alan and Alexia had done most of the Wesker-fighting. Which was good. But Wesker had still escaped. Which was bad. 

Alan's appearance was a grim reminder that Wesker was still out there somewhere, plotting the Redfield family's grisly death, waiting for the opportune moment to strike.

He quickly noticed Seth and Alan set the kid down.

Adjusting his shades a bit, he offered Chris a collective grin. " Hey."

Whatever words Chris may have said were cut off when an excited Seth launched himself into his father's lap, destroying every hope he may have had of getting up. " Daddy! Guess what, Uncle Alan just threw Steve into the water! It was really cool! Then he let me fly all the way over here just like a bird! "

Chris smiled in spite of himself. " Sound like fun! " He shifted an eye up to Alan and gave a dry laugh, " What did Steve do this time? "

Alan cracked his knuckles before replying, " Steve? He told one Wesker joke too many. I gave him a flying lesson free of charge and sent him to swim with the fishes. What have you been up to O' Fearless Leader? "

Chris nudged his son off him and finally stood up, thinking how weird it was to have the children of his worst enemies on his team fighting by his side. Not too long ago, he hadn't even _known _Wesker and Alexia had kids, much less, in Wesker's case, kids with his secret sister.

Even though he sometimes had a hard time picturing it, some Redfield blood flowed through Alan's veins.

" I was just getting ready to bring out my fishing gear." He looked to Seth and winked, " What do you think Seth? Want to drown some worms with me? "

For a moment Seth froze, the wheels turning in his child mind.

Chris waited for the answer he was sure to get.

Seth was torn. He kept looking from Chris to Alan, then back again. At last he said, " Only if Uncle Alan does."

Chris couldn't believe it. _Must be because of all my time away…Alan's a better father than I am and he doesn't even have any kids! _He had to admit he was a bit jealous of the close bond Seth had forged with his 'uncle', but he knew better than to show it. After all, Alan and Alexis did spend quite a bit of their free time just hanging out with his kids.

He looked to Alan expectantly and Wesker's son flinched uncomfortably, no doubt on the spot. 

" Um…that's okay really." He laughed nervously, " Go ahead and fish with your dad. You guys need some father-son bonding time. I'll just…" he glanced around the beach, waiting for an answer to present itself. It came in the form of Alexis and crystal playing in the sand. A good outlet if he did say so himself. " help your sister and Alexis with the Castle of Sand."

Seth didn't like this idea. He shook his head in firm refusal and held Alan's pantleg pleadingly. " But Uncle Alan, I want to play with _you_. You're lotsa fun to be with."

" But you and your dad need some time together to…"

" That's alright," Chris cut in, hurt, " I'm not going to force him to do something he doesn't want to do."

Alan took a deep breath. He had to do it. He just _had _to. " Actually, I think I'll try this fishing thing that seems to be all the rage nowadays."

Chris blinked. Had he heard right? " You mean you're actually going to try it? "

Alan nodded very seriously. " Sure. The way I figure, Chris, I tie you to a really sturdy rope with a grappling hook and toss you in and I oughta have a Great White in no time." He lifted his shades up for a fraction of a second to wink at Seth.

Chris rolled his eyes and shook his head, but he very much appreciated the gesture. He started over for the gear.

" You'll have to freshen my memory though," Alan called after him, " I haven't been fishing since that camping trip when I was ten with the Birkins."

" Don't worry, there isn't much to it." Chris assured, " Mostly just the right bait in the right place at the right time." 

~~~~~~*******************************************************~~~~~~~~~

**_Reviews keep me sane! =^-^=_**


	2. Veronica Makes the Scene

**Chapter 2**

Thousands of miles away, just off the western coast of Japan on a tiny private island far from prying eyes known only to a select few as 'Ashford Island', trouble was brewing.

Ash Ashford, only son of Alfred and Alexia Ashford and heir to the family, was practicing his fencing skills with an elegant antique sword against his opponent; French extraordinaire Pierre Vonte'. 

The place was a large entertainment room inside possibly the Ashford family's largest and most exquisite mansion in the world.

Alfred and Alexia themselves sat to either side of a grand polished oak table placed alongside a big window overlooking the unforgiving rocks of a turbulent sea.

Alexia raised a cup of hot tea to her lips and watched with sadistic delight as her son parried and avoided strike after strike from Pierre's sword. It was she who had initially suggested the lessons, and so far she was quite pleased with the way it was unfolding.

For what he lacked in grace, intelligence, and viral powers, Ash was becoming quite deadly with the blade.

" How's your eye faring, Ash? Not giving you any trouble is it? "

Ash danced to the side and missed a stab to the chest from Pierre's blade. " No, not at all, Mother."

Alexia took another relaxing sip from her cup, the hot liquid feeling good on the way down. She recalled the process her son had went through to get his new left eye after the original had been destroyed by that cursed Wesker.

First there had been the medications and first aid, along with all the procedure hospital mumbo-jumbo to stop bleeding and promote healing. That was the boring part. That was the _legal_ part. Then it had been time for the selection of the replacement eye. Ash had been all too pleased to pick out a stunning young woman by the name of Arin to be the donor. She had had such wonderful icy blue eyes, similar in color to Ash's own, and perhaps that was why he chose her; Alexia didn't particularly care. What she cared about were the fun parts, and once the donor had been selected came the _really _fun part.

After Ash had slit her throat with a very sharp kitchen knife, he and Alexia had went to work cutting out the eyeball even before Arin was even dead. Her bloodcurdling screams of pain and suffering were cut short by the rupture of her windpipe, leaving her to gag on clots of her own blood, feeling every stab of pain as her murderers cut into her before she was at last released by the friendly hand of death.

Ash and Alexia couldn't have cared less about their victim's suffering. They were too busy executing the outmost care in the proper extraction of the eyeball. One wrong cut, one wrong tissue damaged, and the eye would be useless to them.

Once the eye had been removed Alexia had went to work performing the necessary surgery, using the most sophisticated of tools paired with her genius and scientific expertise to masterfully reconnect the eye to Ash's empty socket. The result was better than Ash could've hoped: he recovered complete vision and thus far there had been no complications from the surgery.

However, he would always have three slender scars running vertically down the left side of his face as a nifty little memento of the day he had crossed paths with Wesker and nearly died because of it.

__

Come to think of it, what exactly happened during the last few minutes of that battle anyway? For three months now the question had plagued her no end. She remembered hearing Ash scream bloody murder and turning to see Wesker closing in on him, then….nothing. The next thing she knew she was waking up on the cold floor without a stitch of clothing covering her and Alfred hovering nearby telling her to get up. 

How embarrassing.

She'd collected her family and flown home via secret Ashford family jet, of course, and later on Alfred had told her that during the precise moment in which her memory apparently failed she'd seemed to go into a kind of mindless trance, as if dazed. 

That explained the memory lapse, but it didn't explain _how _she'd gotten into the stupor…nothing like that had ever happened before.

_Hm, I suppose I shall have to perform further experiments with my virus, perhaps some of the effects have not been fully studied? _It was a flimsy explanation, but the only plausible one she could offer herself at the moment. 

Zoning out was not something she made habit.

Glancing across the table, she noticed Alfred's lips were an unnaturally bright red, as if he were wearing lipstick.

Which, she figured, he probably was.

_Crossdressing freak doesn't know when to quit pretending to be me even now that I'm back!_

Disturbing? Very. But it was the truth. 

Not too long after the their marvelous resurrection she'd caught Alfred alone in her room squeezed into one of her dresses and wearing a long blonde wig--looking more like an identical twin sister than a brother. 

__

How absurd! And he applies the makeup **way** too heavily…does he really think I look like that, with more eye-shadow than Cleopatra?

Even worse, the sister-loving transvestite could pitch his voice so that it sounded almost _exactly_ like hers, and it was all she could do to keep from feeling gay for thinking of him in a romantic way sometimes.

Alfred had his problems, oh yeah. Half the time Alexia wasn't even sure which of his personalities she was speaking to. It was extremely embarrassing, and she'd told him more than once to stop, but without much success. It was just one of those things.

Luckily, Alfred seemed to have no trouble at all remembering which gender he was during their more…er…_private_ moments. She had that to be thankful for at least. And despite his obvious shortcomings her brother was quite the loyal little worker ant, not quite as brazen or impulsive as Ash. A useful member of the anthill.

If Alfred noticed his sister eyeing him, he gave no indication of it. Silently, he lifted his own cup of exotic tea and took a sip. When he replaced the decidedly white ornamental cup back on it's saucer, Alexia winced at the faint impressions of red along the rim.

Alfred just gazed on ahead, completely oblivious.

She could stand it no longer. Alfred, you're doing it again. She scolded via thoughtspeak that only he could hear, her tone sharp and to the point.

Alfred looked her way, confused. Doing what again, Dear Sister? 

Alexia rolled her eyes in a gesture of annoyance. Wearing my lipstick. How many times must I explain that lipstick is for females? Which you are not. Take it off. Right now. She pointed to a complimentary napkin folded ever so neatly next to his cup.

Sorry.

Was it just her, or did he actually sound embarrassed as he grabbed the napkin and dabbed at his lips?

She narrowed her eyes suspiciously, and Alfred wilted under her scrutiny. I didn't mean to…

She never let him finish. Something's wrong with you, Brother. You've been acting strange ever since we got back from Africa, possibly even before. Something on your mind? You know better than to keep secrets from me.

For once in his life Alfred didn't know what to say. He didn't want to lie to his Alexia, but to tell her the truth--that he missed Alexis--was not likely to warrant a positive reaction in this case. 

Ashfords weren't suppose to miss anyone. Even family. Alexia viewed such emotion as weakness, and Alfred knew all too well what his sister did to the weak and useless. He didn't ever want to appear weak in front of her.

For a tense moment, the twins locked eyes. _Oh crud, what am I going to tell her? _He faltered for words, then stopped when a deathly scream pierced the air; the clatter of swordplay simultaneously ceasing.

Both he and Alexia turned to see a triumphant Ash standing over the fallen form of Pierre, his sword struck firmly through the other man's breast. Blood gushed onto the light gray carpet staining it red.

" Mwahahahaha! " Ash's exaggerated laughter filled the room, " Ash kills again! " As a victory gesture, he plucked his bloody sword from it's fleshy sheath and swung the blade into a backward arch.

Without looking.

Too bad the Ashford family's display case full of priceless keepsakes and antiques just happened to be right in his path.

The silver-bladed sword sliced through the glass case in a thunderous crash of breaking glass where it just so happened to encounter and old Victorian-style teacup laced with solid gold. Blade and cup met, and the result was that the cup went crashing to the floor where it promptly shattered into dozens of shiny little pieces.

Alexia's hand flew to her face, anger mounting. _He must have gotten the clumsiness gene from his father, it certainly wasn't from me! _This wasn't the first time something like this had happened. She was starting to notice a trend here--Ash and breakables didn't mix.

Slowly, Ash gathered the courage to turn around and asses the damage. His eyes fell upon the broken treasure. _Uh-oh, I'm in wicked trouble now! _That was his mother's favorite antique! _She is sooo going to kill me!_

Sheepishly, he turned to face the wrath of his parents. _Gulp! _ " Um…sorry? "

" _Sorry?! _" Alexia spat, " That cup belonged to our great ancestor Veronica! Now look what you've done you clumsy git! " She twitched her wrist and sent a blazing ball of fire hurtling towards Ash. He dodged and it exploded on the far wall, leaving a singed indent the size of a beachball in it's wake.

Ash did not like to think of what may have happened if the fiery ball of death had hit it's mark. His mother had quite the temper.

" You insult the Ashford name! " Alfred growled, his snobby tone resurfacing for the comment.

" Look, I said I was sorry! " Ash hissed back at his father, taking extra care not to aim the comment at his mother, " What else do you want me to do? Strip down to my underwear and sing _'Puff the Magic Dragon' _whilst I try to glue it back together? "

As snobby and rude as Alfred and Alexia could be, Ash had practically defined he words. His voice dripped with venomous sarcasm. _Geesh, all this fuss over a bloody teacup. Yet no one seems to mind when Dad plays 'Let's Pretend I'm a Woman'. _Of course, he knew better than to voice that opinion.

It was all yelling and empty threats when his father was angry with him, but Hell hath no fury like his mother on the warpath.

" If only you had the sense to look before you…." Alfred froze midsentence, his attention drawn to an eerie scarlet mist drifting up from the doomed teacup.

Alexia too, noticed, and his parents' odd stares caused Ash to spin around where he got a good view of the mysterious fog-like mist rising up from the broken shards in a fiery reddish plume.

Higher and higher it rose, the red stuff coming out of the pieces at a furious pace, reminding Ash of those little smoke bombs he used to light on the Fourth of July, the ones that emitted a colored smoke. He'd always enjoyed lighting those and then throwing them at people; much like he did with cherry bombs, firecrackers, bottle rockets, and practically every other kind of firework ever invented.

Ah, the good old days.

Only this time Ash didn't associate the smoke with fun, but rather fear. He backed several steps away, watching it drift to the ceiling, sword clutched tightly in both hands.

At last the shards stopped smoking, and for a moment the entire corner of the room next to the display case and the body of the unfortunate Pierre Vontae' was filled with the mysterious red smoke.

" My god, who _gave_ Veronica that teacup, witches? " Ash managed, nicely creeped out.

" I…" Alexia didn't finish, however, as just then the frothing red mist began swirling wildly like a violent storm, faster and faster, accumulating towards the center in an ever thickening mass. A shape began to emerge.

Within seconds, all the mist in the room was pulled together in a woman-shaped silhouette. A bright flash illuminated the room like a whip of lightning, the crackle of a powerful current unmistakable in the air.

When the three Ashfords' vision came back into focus, what they saw standing before them was nothing short of amazing.

Where once there had been red mist, a young woman wearing a fancy scarlet Victorian-era dress stood atop the shattered remains of the broken heirloom. Alexia guessed her to be around twenty years of age, maybe.

Once, twice, Alfred had to pinch himself to see if he was really awake or in fact dreaming. The stranger before them was a complete raving beauty even--and he would not dare say this aloud as the very thought seemed like blasphemy--more gorgeous than Alexia. 

She had flowing red hair that shimmered with a godly golden hue reaching down to the middle of her back. Her face was flawless, her lips deep red, and her eyes the most beautiful shade of the most beautiful violet Alfred had ever seen. Her figure was perfect, her smooth skin a creamy peach a shade or two fairer than his own.

The stranger's eyes flitted around the room, taking in her new surroundings. Oddly calm, she seemed not to mind the fact that she was standing only inches away from a dead man.

Her gaze came to rest upon the destroyed teacup in whose remains she now stood.

Finally, she spoke. " I never, _ever_ wish to see another teacup in my life! Hmphf, commemorative gift indeed!" She looked up, meeting the awed stares of her benefactors, " A many thanks thine humble servants. It was getting far too stuffy in there." She stepped off the broken teacup, making a face as she did so. " I am finally free of thy prison! " Her voice was perhaps the one thing about her that threw the rest of her image off-kilter. It wasn't unpleasant to listen to, but it lacked refinement and carried a certain wild, fiery attitude, suggesting it's owner as the type you didn't mess with. Not only that, it had quite a pronounced edge of insanity to it. Not much different, in fact, from the way Alfred would sound if he were female.

Alfred gasped, his mouth hanging open in a comical rendition of shock and awe.

" Who are you? " Alexia inquired, even though she already knew the answer. Curious but cautious, she was completely prepared to flay this young woman at a moment's notice if need be.

The woman cocked her head curiously, studying Ash, Alexia, and Alfred each in turn. " Thy name is Veronica. Veronica Ashford. I sense something about thee, all of thee, a kinship."

" You're _the _Veronica Ashford? Wicked! " Ash marveled.

Veronica nodded, clearly confused as to Ash's use of the word 'wicked' in context with the rest of his words. " Aye. That is thy name. But what shalt I call thee? "

" Ash." Ash introduced, " And those are my parents Alfred and Alexia. We're all Ashfords too."

" Your descendants! " Alfred finished, " You're our great great great grandma or something like that."

For a moment, a frown registered on Veronica's face. It was replaced quickly by a wicked smirk. " Ah. I see. Tell me, what is thy year? "

" Um…2004, I think." Ash blurted, and his parents could've strangled him.

" You _think_? " Veronica gave Ash an odd look, like he had just incorrectly answered the question what two plus two equaled, " Thou meanst to tell me thy doth not even knoweth what year he is in? This is what my bloodline hath cometh to? "

" Okay, try it again." Ash replied, " This time in English."

" Nevermind him," Alexia interrupted, shooting Ash a poisonous look, " The year is indeed 2004..."

" Ah! Thy infernal teacup hath held me prisoner for over 150 years! " She rubbed her hands together, her expression murderous, " This shalt be interesting, yes indeed. I shalt have thine revenge on thy jailer and then thy whole miserable world shalt finally get what it deserves! "

Her posture and tone of voice right then reminded Alfred so much of Alexia it was uncanny. _Father was right,_ he thought, _certainly Veronica's beauty **is **legendary._

" Well, now that thy formalities art over, we really must be getting down to business. I am your Mistress now, all of thee are to obeyeth me on thine every whim…"

This didn't fly with Alexia. " _What?! _" _How dare she make such a bold claim! Ancestor or no I'm going to strike her clear into next week! _" I am afraid you are mistaken M'Dear, it is _I _who am Mistress of this family." She rose to her feet, a ball of fire beginning to form in her right hand. " And though I have learned a considerable deal about you from the family records, even admired you to some point in fact, that's not going to stop me from kicking your sodding ass clear back into the teacup from whence it came! "

Veronica laughed mockingly, rising to the challenge. " Go ahead thy impudent worm. If thou canst."

Alfred and Ash backed away, knowing what was coming. _Nobody _spoke to Alexia in that manner, _nobody_. 

Furious, Alexia threw her fire. 

Veronica made no attempt to dodge. Instead, she merely waved her arm in a very carefree manner and Alexia's fireball jerked sharply to the side; deflected by some unseen barrier.

Veronica grinned smugly. " What thy family records probably fail to mention is that I am a sorceress." Her pretty violet eyes flashed a pure bright red for a fraction of a second, outshining even Wesker's before returning to their original color, " A very _powerful _sorceress." 


	3. Fire and Ice

**Chapter 3**

Albert Wesker sat in one of those comfy office chairs adjoined to a long table in an empty conference room. Not for the first time since he'd arrived like, twenty minutes ago, he removed his shades and wiped them with a black cloth. Just for something to do. This was taking far too long. He'd crippled research plants faster than this, even ones that weren't run by zombified researchers drooling all over their own equipment and trying to play the popular zombie game of _walk-through-wall_. 

Sighing, he rested his boots up on the table, kicking back in his seat. It didn't pay to be on time to an appointment anymore. Not with these guys. Lately his HCF contacts had been taking a leaf out of the doctor's office books. _Only here I don't even get magazines. If they're going to be inconsiderate enough to keep me waiting, the **least** they could do would be to give me something to read._ Just as he was thinking this, the door popped open and a man named Jeff whom Wesker was quite familiar with stepped into the room. 

Always straight to business, he strode over and occupied the seat at the farthest end of the table.

Wesker rolled his eyes, aware the man could not see the movement beneath his sunglasses. Not that he would care even if the other guy _could _see the impolite gesture.

" What took you? Couldn't pull yourself away from the lunchroom ? "

Jeff, who was more than thirty pounds overweight and not in the least bit proud of it, took offense. " As a matter of fact I was just signing the new contract to legalize some of our agreements in the Middle East." He kept his tone calm, hardly any traces of his initial resentment spilling into it.

Although Jeff was Wesker's higher-up and the one in charge of relaying the boss's assignments to the superhuman virus carrier, he was still more than a little afraid of what the guy might do when pushed. Thus he bluffed his way through his fears, pretending to be several times more important than he actually was. It gave him some degree of comfort at least.

Wesker shook his head, tsk-tsking. " It doesn't take twenty minutes to sign a piece of paper." He could sense Jeff's fear, smell it. It was good that this peon knew his place. 

Folding his hands on the table, Jeff replied, " It does when it involves company procedure and a whole lot of red tape. But that's not important. The boss wants me to inform you of your next mission: you are to retrieve an ancient relic from beneath a volcano on Majika Island. Here." He slid a single sheet of paper across the polished surface of the table.

Much to his dismay, Wesker was forced to pull his feet off the table and sit up properly to grab it. He began reading at rapid-fire speed. Once he was finished he threw the paper down in disgust.

" The Sword of Elpis? Might as well be the Sword of _Elvis_, how cheesy can you get? "

Jeff sighed. " That's what I thought too. But there's an ancient prophecy concerning this sword that's been in our file for many years now. Said the sword was forged hundreds of years ago by a now vanished group of mystical monks for some upcoming apocalypse or battle. Supposed to have magic properties. According to the prophecy, the sword can be found in a secret underground chamber beneath the base of Mt. Fulcan and is accessible during 'the right time' which our studies have confirmed just happens to be tomorrow. What lends that last statement further credibility is that we have had teams scour the area before and come up with nothing. So now the boss wants you to go in and get it."

Wesker shook his head, frustrated. All these years with HCF and he was getting reduced to such trivial tasks as hunting down some lame-named sword that probably didn't even exist? It was an insult to his abilities. _Why can't he send some lackies in to do the ridiculous stuff?_

" A magical sword. Right. This sword by any chance related to the Excalibur? Because if I didn't know any better I might think this sounded like I was being sent off on a wild goose chase after something as firmly based in reality as the Fountain of Youth."

Jeff rocked back in his seat. " Whether or not you and I believe the sword is magical, or even if it exists at all, there are a lot of people out there willing to pay big bucks for it. Now I don't know why exactly the Head Honcho assigned this mission to _you _in particular, but it would be unwise to turn it down. If nothing else at least you'll get to enjoy some warm Caribbean weather. Majika Island is right on the equator you know."

Wesker thought about this a moment. Jeff had a point. Even if the whole magical sword thing turned out to be nothing more than a bunch of bologna, at least he would get to spend that time in the tropics on a remote island. Perhaps there would even be some savages to whip into shape? The idea was enticing.

_On second thought, this doesn't seem like such a bad mission. Could be an excellent training ground for Spade. It's been awhile since we were assigned to a remote area. Besides, some sun would feel awfully good right about now. _Yeah. The more he thought about it, the more he liked the idea. It would be more like a paid vacation. 

He rubbed his hands together. " Alright I accept."

A relieved smile swept Jeff's face. " Great! You need any henchmen? An assistance group or such? Sorry, but I have to ask the question. It's not that I _personally _think you would need…"

" Screw the cannon fodder this time. I'm taking Spade."

Jeff raised an uncomfortable eyebrow. " Your daughter? "

Wesker's eyes flashed red momentarily in a gesture of annoyance. The lyrics to that Jeff Foxworthy song _Here's Your Sign _flashed through his mind.

_And if anyone ever needed a sign_…" No, Spade the three-headed circus freak. Who else would I be talking about? Of course my daughter."

Jeff was skeptical. " I'm…I'm not sure how Number One would feel about that…"

" And why not? " Wesker shot, " I've been training her."

Jeff took a long time answering, and Wesker had to suppress the urge to rip his throat out. _This guy is **way** overpaid_. Nevertheless, he was familiar with Jeff at least and not really in the mood to break in a new Missions Assignments personnel. Not to mention the cut in pay that resulted from assassinating an employee as high up on the totem pole as Jeff had somehow magically gotten.

For now, Wesker was just going to have to put up with the sniveling weasel. Mind swimming with poisonous thoughts, he resnatched the paper about the Sword of Elpis or whatever the heck it was supposed to be that Jeff had given him earlier and reread over some of the detail while he waited for Weasel Boy to cough up his explanation.

" Well you see, that's exactly the thing," Jeff said, no doubt choosing his words carefully, " Number One hasn't forgotten what happened with your son…"

Wesker dropped his paper and gave Jeff a piercing glare. A piercing _red _glare. " Oh really? That whole thing was nothing more than an unfortunate turn of events. Where am I to be blamed for Alan's poor judgment? " His tone was calm and casual, almost friendly in fact. 

With Wesker, that was a danger sign. He seldom raised his voice and was an expert at concealing his true feelings. He could sound entirely reasonable right up to the moment he ripped your still beating heart out of your chest and stomped it into the floor. And you would be left wondering why with your last breath.

Jeff's posture was slightly more relaxed now, but he still didn't look comfortable with the way the conversation was turning. " Very well then. It's your call."

" Indeed." He stood and stretched, flashing Jeff a cold, wicked grin intended to freeze the blood in his veins, " Tell the Big Wig I'm on it."

***********************************************************************

Wesker liked to drive very fast. Thus he reached the quaint little country house he shared with his daughter in only minutes.

Though used at the moment strictly as living quarters, the three-bedroom dwelling could easily be converted into a ranch or farm thanks to the miles and miles of endless open hills dotted with trees and the lack of close neighbors. A lovely little stream straight out of a fairly tail gurgled nearby, flanking the right side of the house in a grove of trees. The sweet song of birds filled the air.

All in all, Wesker thought it wasn't a bad place to live. He particularly liked the seclusion. It would not do to have people getting too nosy about his personal affairs, like those damned busybodies in that one Iowan neighborhood who had, most likely for reasons of boredom, invented the most ridiculous rumors about him and Alan.

Nowadays Wesker opted for the remote living quarters. Having to be on the watch twenty-four seven that he didn't slip up and let someone see something they shouldn't cramped his style.

Pulling into the driveway, he killed the motor of his sleek black Ferrari. 

Spade burst out the front door of the house, a wild shimmer of hopeful excitement in her eyes. " Daddy! You're back! "

Wesker stepped out of the car and met her halfway to the door. Not for the first time he found himself staring into her eyes. They were a beautiful emerald green, the way his had once been. It brought back memories.

Spade didn't notice. She crossed her arms, a gleeful smile splitting her face. " So how'd it go? Did we get an exotic new mission? Please say yes, because I am so totally ready to kick some butt! I'm bored to tears here. I mean, there's only so much rest and relaxation a girl can handle." 

This statement was further punctuated by her choice of attire: a dull green tee with equally as interesting blue jeans and brown cowgirl boots. Her shiny black hair, some of it streaked with blonde dye, was swept back into a loose ponytail. She more closely resembled a farmgirl ready to muck out the stalls, feed the chickens, or ride bareback than a hopeful apprentice ready to head out on a special mission.

" Actually, yes. The boss wants me to go to a tropical island after some mystical _Sword of Elpis_. I personally think it's a big waste of time, but whatever. It would feel good to catch some sun anyway. Think of it as more of a vacation. Who knows, there may even be some cannibals to beat into shape."

He shivered a bit involuntary. It was cold out today. Very cold. In fact, it was a miracle they hadn't had snow already. The forecaster seemed to think they would be seeing some tomorrow though. 

Suddenly the tropics seemed even _more _inviting. Though Wesker's body could tolerate temperatures could enough to give the average person hypothermia, it was not in the least comfortable and seemed to slow his virus down some. 

Like a reptile in the cold. 

He often wondered if certain aspects of his virus, the T-2, hadn't in fact been derived from snakes; reptilian predators which were inactive during the cold winter and also shared the characteristic of slitted pupils in the eyes. 

Spade was thrilled. " A tropical island? Sweet."

Nodding his agreement, Wesker brushed past his daughter and headed for the house. " Pack up. We'll leave as soon as you're ready."

" Great! " Spade shot into the house and for her room with such a speed that for a moment Wesker wondered if she, too, hadn't somehow contracted the T-2 virus. 

It didn't take much to excite her, that was for sure. 

Then the horrible realization of what she might be packing…" Spade? "

" Yes? " He could already hear her rifling through drawers, zipping and unzipping bags at a furious pace. The fragrant scent of coconut oil drifted through the air.

" Remember, only the necessities this time. No eyeliner or lipstick. _Only_ the necessities. We wont be there for more than a day or two at the most if all goes to plan, so there's no need to pack your entire room."

" Affirmative. But I still want to look nice, in case, you know, I run into some cute guy."

" If you did I'd just have to kill him." Wesker laughed, only half joking. 

******************************************************************

" A _sorceress?! _" Alfred gasped. 

Veronica looked agitated. " Art thou deaf? That is what I just said! "

Alexia snorted indignantly. " Impossible! "

Veronica only laughed. I was a soft, delicate sound; much like Alexia's laughter. " So funny how thee can deny what is in front of thy own eyes."

That did it. Alexia had had enough. Sorceress or no, Veronica posed a serious threat to her and her goals. Not to mention leadership of the Ashford family. 

The plan? Simple, she was going to deal with this threat in the best way she knew how: eliminate it. Strike hard and swift, before Veronica knew what hit her.

Of course, that did present a bit of a problem in itself. How did one vanquish a sorceress? Alexia's fields of expertise were science and math. Though a genius, and an evil one at that, she had not wasted her time researching such ridiculous things as black magic and sorcery.

Thus she didn't know what to expect, only that her foe must be taken down quickly.

She concentrated hard, willing the molecules of the T-Veronica virus within her to speed up and start their work. The results were almost instant. Her cells heated up. Then her body. The area around her was now over a hundred degrees and getting hotter still. Her clothes caught on fire and burned off, revealing the emerging mottled, ashen-gray skin, tough and rubbery. Her blonde hair faded to varying shades of gray then fused together, forming a single helmet-like protrusion on her head and covering a small part of her face. All over her body soft, pink skin was being replaced by hard, gray armor. Her eyes blazed an evil undiluted red. 

It was her first form, a phase she was becoming more and more familiar with and the one she must pass through to attain her second and third forms. In this state she had enhanced strength and agility as well as almost impenetrable armor and, of course, her trademark fire-throwing ability. 

It was a good form for fighting lesser foes on--she could quite easily pick up and throw cars like this--but it lacked the sheer power and size of her second form, or the speed of her third form. 

Hopefully it would be enough to beat Veronica. Switching to second form required a big drain on her energies and a partial loss of coherent thoughts. She found herself unable to focus well in that stage, it was like some animal instincts took over and she regarded everyone as a foe.

Veronica watched calmly as Alexia finished her transformation.

Alfred backed off into a little corner, rooting, of course, for Alexia but having the good sense not to get in the way.

Ash groaned. " Aw gees Mom, do you have to do that all the time? I don't mean to be rude but…"

Alexia snapped her head his direction, her flaming red eyes glowing like embers in a fire. Then don't. There was absolutely no mistaking the raw power and authority in her telepathic voice.

Ash fell silent, still clutching his bloody sword tightly but backing away towards the wall. He didn't like being near his mother when she got like this. It almost always resulted in him getting hurt.

Having taken care of that, Alexia returned her attention to her ancestor, who waited patiently.

" Oh, thou haveth special powers too? This shalt be interesting." Veronica mused.

Much to Alexia's disappointment, she didn't seem worried in the least. _She really thinks she's hot stuff. Time to show her who the real Mistress around here is! _

Without warning, Alexia charged, catching both hands on fire, her fingernails thickening and lengthening into wicked claws.

Sadly, Veronica was so busy being curious and captivated by Alexia's transformation that she was totally unprepared for the sudden assault and failed to move in time. 

Alexia's fiery hand struck her cheek, twisting her head to the side at a painful angle and leaving deep gashes in the side of her face. Before she had time to cry out Alexia grabbed her by the neck and flung her against the far wall hard enough to crack the plaster. 

_Hah! That will teach you! _Determined not to let her foe regain her feet, Alexia started for her again.

Veronica stood up, but rather than being enraged or intimidated by the blow she gave Alexia a look usually only reserved for someone who belched loudly in a restaurant. " What manner of foul play is this? Do thee possess no manners? Thou do not just walketh up to someone and strike them! " 

" You do if you want to win! " Ash threw, relieved that his mother seemed to be on top of things. He was still hugging the wall, keeping his sword handy just in case.

Alexia caught her whole body on fire, a walking torch headed straight for Veronica.

Veronica was less amused now. She waved a hand over her face and the bloody gashes--some which were undoubtedly to the bone--simply vanished without a trace.

" So thou wanst to play rough does thee? Fine, I shalt show thee how it is done! " With that her eyes flashed a deep primal red and her entire body was instantly surrounded by a shimmering magical aura of a pale purple glow.

She began to change. But it was not a slow, gradual change as Alexia's metamorphosis had been, oh no. Rather one moment Veronica was a stunningly beautiful young woman and the next she was an equally as gorgeous dragon with jet black scales, a gold colored underside, and a ridge of red spikes running the length of her back and tail.

All in the time it took to blink.

She was also just the right size to fit in the room; not large, by dragon standards, but not exactly a Chihuahua either. She was bigger than Alexia.

Ash's jaw dropped.

Over in his corner, far, far away, Alfred cloned the motion. " A _dragon?! _"

Alexia finally froze, inches in front of it's face. _Ok, so perhaps that wasn't the best idea I ever had…_

She had clearly underestimated Veronica.

The dragon's mouth flew open and a violent hail of orange and red flame shot out, hitting Alexia in the face and torso with such powerful force it sent her tumbling backwards to the middle of the room where she landed ungraciously on her back.

" Um…Alexia? I have a suggestion," Alfred called, sounding like a scared and lost little boy, " we do whatever Sorceress Veronica says! "

The Veronica-dragon grinned, revealing several pointy white teeth. " I guess thee art not as stupid as thou lookst." She said aloud, the voice clearly her own and not in the least bit affected by moving the dragon jaws to make the sounds.

As she spoke he caught glimpses of a red serpentine tongue darting about inside her mouth, just like the dragons of mythology.

Alexia started to get up. The fire hadn't hurt her, obviously--in fact it was more like getting swatted down onto her backside with a giant pillow--but the fall had wounded her dignity.

She tossed a fireball in Veronica's general direction, but it was more for distraction than anything else. _She's too powerful like this, I **have** to go Second Form. _But even as she was willing the changes to begin, Veronica attacked.

This time it was not fire, but a chilling blast of Artic wind and ice that escaped her jaws. This frigid torrent froze Alexia's fireball midair, solidifying it into a large chunk of ice before it vaporized and the clinging ice shards fell to the floor.

The rest of the blast hit Alexia, and it was like nothing she'd ever experienced before. Her first sensation was a terrible chill, like she'd been cast into the freezing Artic ocean wearing only a leotard. _Cold! So cold! _The initially hot blood in her veins quickly froze up, slowing her heartbeat and preventing her virus from functioning altogether.

In fact, she became so numb with coldness that the three long icicles piercing her body in the arm, leg, and torso didn't even register. Where blood should have spurted non came.

Veronica clamped her jaws shut, cutting off the horrific onslaught of ice-wind.

Her descendant lie motionless in the center of the room, covered from head to toe in a thin sheet of white frost and completely paralyzed; too cold even to shiver.

She would die within seconds, Veronica knew, unless something was done. _Gee, I didn't mean to lay it on her so hard._

Alfred and Ash started to her side immediately.

" Stay back! " Veronica hissed, having merely to look at the walls to start writhing green vines as thick as ropes shooting out of them and grabbing the male Ashfords back.

" Hey! What's the big…" Ash was silenced as a large vine slapped across his mouth. Several more wrapped around his arms, legs, and midsection…there were too many too fast!

Alfred was having the same problem. He struggled in vain with the tendrils coiling around his body like angry snakes until he, too, was pulled back against the wall, the constricting vines wrapped so tight he barely had room to breathe, never mind move a limb.

He was helpless. Helpless to watch his sister die. Soon Veronica would deal the death blow, and then it would all be over.

Alexia! Alexia, can you hear me? You have to get up. You have to get up or you'll die! 

There was no reply.

Veronica clambered closer to the dying Alexia until she was standing right over her, and Alfred half expected that slender black snout to dart down and rip her head off.

Veronica's jaws opened again, and this time burning flames erupted forth; licking over Alexia's frozen body, melting the frost and unfreezing the blood to return to normal flow. Her heart sped back up.

Slowly, Alexia began to regain consciousness. _Where am I? Did I…did I die? Again?_ _Mmm, warm. _

She sat up, eyes shut, allowing the warm flames to wash over her, rejuvenate her. It felt so good, the way she had once enjoyed nice hot baths as a child. 

When it stopped, she was in fact a little disappointed. _What's going on here anyway?_

Opening her eyes, she looked up. Straight into the face of a dragon. And remembered instantly.

_Uh-oh._

Uh-oh was right; Veronica's foremost foot surged forward and pinned her across the chest back to the floor, one of the insanely sharp red talons poised straight over her heart.

Blood gushed from some puncture wounds in her chest, arm, and leg that she didn't even remember receiving. It trickled in places over Veronica's toes, catching on fire as it did so.

Of course, being a creature of fire and magic, the dragon didn't mind. 

" I do hopeth we are through with thy pointless feud. It is one thee canst not win."

" Just kill me and be done with it! " Alexia moaned, finally accepting defeat.

Never before had she been so totally and utterly annihilated. Even Chris had had to endure quite the struggle before he finally pulled off a lucky shot with the linear launcher.

This was different. This was new. Veronica had powers far beyond her compare. She could never hope to defeat the sorceress in this way. Not in a contest of power and brute strength. To attempt so again would most certainly be suicide. 

_What chance do I have against a woman who can turn herself into a dragon at the drop of a hat and pelt me with damnable ice-cold breath? I can't beat her like this._

It was the bitter truth. 

" Kill thee? Alexia dear, thou hast me all wrong. It was never thine intention to kill thee. I was merely asserting thy dominance. Thou arst family after all. However there is to be no confusion as to who is Mistress of this family. Once thou haveth accepted this fact, once thou admits me as thy Mistress, I shalt let thee up."

_She's mad! Completely insane! _Alexia thought.

The way Veronica talked was really starting to bug her. Some of the words and styling were clearly Olde English, but Veronica only used them in proper context half the time. For example, she used _'thy' _--which was the translated equivalent of _' your'_--- in place of the words _'me' _and _'the' _in addition to it's proper usage. Which made no sense because she had just demonstrated she had the word _'me' _in her vocabulary just last statement. Why would she use _'thy' _in place of it? And _'thine' _meant _' yours'_, yet this moron was using it as _'my'_.

It sounded almost as if English was not her native tongue, but the puzzling thing about this was that her voice carried no trace of any other kind of accent. 

And why would she be speaking Olde English anyway? Even 150 years ago people didn't talk like that.

It was incomprehensible. Then again, many things about Veronica were, especially how she could produce such soft sounds with a dragon's throat.

But Alexia was no fool. She now understood that her best chance at defeating Veronica would be to lay low and do whatever her 'Mistress' told her to until she could discover more of her weaknesses.

Sure, she had already found one, but somehow Alexia doubted that Veronica's butcher of the English language was going to be a major setback for her in the final fight.

_Surely she must have some weakness, she didn't imprison herself in that teacup._

Wait a minute. Veronica had mentioned something about revenge against an imprisoner. And he/she must be some entity if Veronica still expected to find him/her alive after 150 years.

_And I thought being confined for fifteen years was bad. Well, actually only fourteen years, six months, and two days, but who's counting?_

Alfred had been. He later told her she'd emerged a few months earlier than planned, not that it mattered.

" Well? " Veronica demanded, her patience wearing thin. She opened her mouth halfway in a frightening display of glistening white teeth, several as long and sharp as kitchen knives and the foremost fangs were more like daggers.

Alexia had no desire to test their effectiveness.

Take her up on it! Call her 'Mistress', we can find a way out of this later! Alfred yelled inside her head, voice brimming with worry.

Ash, of course, was silent. He did not possess the ability of telepathy and his mouth was covered by a thick vine. But his thoughts on the matter pretty much mirrored his father's.

Alexia took a deep breath. This was going to be hard.

" Alright. You win, Mistress."


	4. Storm Warning

**Chapter 4**

Claire bolted upright. A sudden chill tingled her spine for just a fraction of a second before vanishing.

Alerted by her abrupt move, Steve shot up and grabbed her shoulder in a concerned gesture. " Claire, you ok? "

Claire nodded, unsure what to make of the strange phenomenon that had came over her just then. " Yeah. Strange, I felt a sudden chill in my back."

Steve gave her a look that suggested maybe she'd been out in the sun too long. 

" It's over eighty degrees out." He said point-blankly, as if that very fact eliminated all possible chances Claire would have of feeling such a sensation.

He slicked back his unruly ruddy-brown hair with a slightly tanned hand and made a face. Still a little wet.

_Must remember to watch what I say around Virus Boy…he could have flung me clear out to the Great Whites!_ It was a frightening thought.

Steve was absolutely terrified of sharks. And he didn't care what Chris or the others said; he was sure there were hundreds lurking around an uninhabited island like this one out in the Atlantic. 

They were probably swimming around where he had been only recently, just waiting for some unfortunate person to wander too far into the surf…. 

He was interrupted from his thoughts of shark attack when Claire quietly stood up, stretching. 

" Well, I guess we should see what everyone else is up to." She breathed, writing the brief cold sensation off as weird.

No sense in concerning yourself with things like that.

" Yeah, and while we're at it, maybe we could grab a bite to eat? I forgot the munchos on the jet."

Claire met this with a playful smile, rolling her eyes as she started off towards the camp. Men. 

" Hey! I don't even merit an answer now! " Steve gushed, grabbing their things and hurrying after her. 

Neither of them noticed the watchful eyes attached to a face hidden just behind the towering ferns in the wooded jungle.

**********************************************************************

Chris, Alan, and Seth relaxed in comfy beach chairs only a few feet ahead of the ebb and flow of the tide. The water would rush up at them fiercely, stop inches away from their feet, then just as suddenly as it came it pulled back; leaving the sand wet and of darker coloration in the places it touched.

Three fishing poles were propped smugly against the crook of three sturdy forked tree limbs stuck purposefully in the sand: an expensive yellow oceanrod, a nondescript brown pole, and a Garfield pole. It was easy to tell who's was who's. All of the lines were cast a good distance out into the surf; taut and tight so that the faintest jerk would betray the fish who took the bait.

So far though, the two hours they had spent fishing had rewarded them with not a single fish, and the only briefest fleeting excitement had happened when Chris's line had wiggled ever so slightly. That had turned out to be a false alarm--he'd cast into a nest of seaweed and the hook had became entangled in the mess.

Alan was getting a little antsy. He wasn't used to staying so still for so long outside of sleeping. 

Not to mention the overpowering smell of the seawater that was wreaking havoc on his nose. An extremely well-developed sense of smell was not always such a good thing in some circumstances. Alan could tell the difference between a bathtub full of water and a bathtub full of water with a teaspoon of salt in it. Unfortunately, he could also scent roadkill from a mile off, which was not a fun ability to have.

Naturally, he generally liked to avoid being exposed to a strong odor for any longer than was necessary. 

" We will, at some point, actually catch a fish. Right? " He turned his head slightly in Chris's direction, directing the question at his leader.

" Hmm? Oh." Awakened from his daze, Chris gave a sleepy sigh and grabbed his can of soda which was waiting for him in the cup-holder portion of the beach-chair's armrest. " Have a little patience, Alan. What I do is called 'fishing'. If it were easy, it would be called 'catching', and they're be a lot more people doing it."

He studied the expression of his teammate.

Alan seemed bored and extra fidgety, but beyond that he offered no further complaint. 

Chris smiled. _I'm glad he's on our side._

Now that Alan was an official S.T.A.R.S. member--the Alpha Team's 'muscle' for want of a better word--everyone seemed to feel a little safer. Most of the people they knew with superhuman powers were homicidal killers bent on their destruction. It was a bit of a comfort knowing that Alan was around. Especially with Wesker and Alexia on the lose--both with personal vendettas against the S.T.A.R.S. and Chris in particular.

However, Chris was always a little worried whenever his new comrade went out with the rest of the team to capture the bad guy. His superhuman abilities coupled with the fact that Wesker had done such an excellent job of training him to fight and kill made Alan a deadly weapon. That on it's own wouldn't have been so bad if he didn't also have this annoying tendency to rush headlong into a dangerous situation without giving the matter much thought. 

There was no hiding it: Alan was not a good strategist. Rather than thinking things through to decide how best to handle a situation, he tended to just rush in and smash people up. Not always the brightest move. 

__

Having superpowers has made him too sure of himself. It was all too easy for Chris to imagine a hostage situation where Alan might accidentally spook the perpetrator into killing the victim. There was also the danger of him accidentally killing the suspect. Indeed, it was not for Alan's own safety that Chris was concerned, but for the safety of the people involved.

He recalled one such incident that had happened only weeks ago when the S.T.A.R.S. had been called to deal with a trio of drug dealers who were considered armed and dangerous. It had been a particularly touchy mission thanks to a bomb the band had threatened to detonate if police were to show up. 

Chris and the rest of the Alpha Team-- a.k.a. Alan and Jill--had traveled the 4 miles of empty dirt road to reach the house in question in a single unmarked car. Things had started out smoothly enough at first; the druggies seemed oblivious to their arrival. Chris's plan had been to spilt up and surround the building slowly, judging the status and position of the suspects before deciding what to do next. After all, they still didn't know if there were any children or hostages on the premises and if that were the case a direct confrontation could endanger their lives. 

It was not to be. 

Always more a man of action, Alan had gotten excited and rushed in before it was time--straight into the living room were all three druggies were huddled together and waiting with guns.

Turned out they were not as oblivious as had previously been thought.

Any other officer would have been killed that night; shot to death by the scared drug dealers. 

Thankfully, Alan was not any other officer. He was a carrier of the T-2 virus. That meant he was very fast. The druggies barely had time to aim their guns before he was on them, forcefully tearing the firearms out of their hands and flinging them across the room. One managed to pull off a shot before he lost his weapon, a shot that grazed Alan's thigh. A shot that slowed Alan down for oh, say, a billionth of a second.

The poor druggies never stood a chance.

When Chris and the rest of the team had arrived at the scene it was to see one guy slumped across the couch; clearly unconscious with a huge red mark on the side of his gruffy face. Another guy was on the floor crying. They later learned one of his ribs had been cracked and two broken. The third guy was cowering against a corner and begging for mercy; his right wrist and half the fingers on that hand broken. 

Alan was just standing in the center of the room, looking mightily pleased with himself.

Chris remembered thinking he almost felt sorry for the drug dealers.

At about that time they heard a motor start up and a car speed off at 90 miles a minute. There had been a fourth druggie.

Once again, before Chris had had time to utter a single syllable, his subordinate had zipped off straight out the door. 

Jill was busy cuffing the man in the corner, and since it was obvious that the guy on the floor would not be offering any resistance--he was in too much pain--nor would the third companion--he was in too much unconsciousness--Chris had spared a moment to cross the threshold and see how Alan would handle the chase.

A red car was racing down the stretch of dirt road at what was at least 40 mph and rising quickly. It was dark out, so Chris didn't see exactly what happened. All he knew was at one moment the car was speeding down the road and the next it was on it's side in a ditch. Alan later told him that he had ran up behind the car, grabbed it's rear bumper with both hands, and literally lifted the car off it's back wheels while at the same time digging his feet into the ground and coming to a grinding halt. Once the rear half of the vehicle was suspended in the air, it's wheels spinning vainly, he explained that he had drug it over to a ditch and tossed in on it's side.

Fortunately, the shaken druggie was not hurt badly beyond the usual cuts and scrapes associated with one's car being thrown into a ditch.

Thankfully, the whole bomb scare had been nothing more than a bluff. 

Once they were in a more private setting, Chris had taken Alan aside and explained the concept of the word 'subtle' to him. He had also explained why it had been a bad idea to just barge into the house like that. Innocent people could have been involved. Innocent people could have been killed. There really could have been a bomb in the house. Also, it was against regulations for Alan to take matters into his own hands and run in without being ordered to do so. 

_" I am the Captain of this team," _He had reminded his nephew, _" I know you just want to help, but you still have to wait for my order before you act. It's for everyone's safety. Don't run into a potentially hazardous situation unless I give the OK."_

After their little 'talk', Alan had apologized for his brash behavior and all was well again.

The very next day, as Chris remembered, he had called a conference meeting in the S.T.A.R.S. office and had arrived to find Alan occupying his desk in a very relaxed position and wearing sunglasses_. " Hey look, I'm the Captain of S.T.A.R.S.! " _He had declared lightly, and the whole room had burst into laughter because the plaque on the desk did indeed read **_'Captain A. Wesker'_**. In fact, it had been the very same plaque his father had used when he had been Captain, and to this day Chris had no idea where he'd gotten it. Of course, possessing a sense of humor, he had responded with _" Very funny, Alan." _

On the whole, Chris thought Alan was pleasant enough to have around. He was usually upbeat and in a cheery mood. And you could count on him in a bind. Even if he did make the occasional mistake. 

_Namely breaking things…_

In only the three months since he'd been there, the newest addition to the team had already broken two doorknobs and completely ruined the locking mechanism on an equal number of special-files cabinets and drawers. Not intentionally, of course, he simply hadn't realized they were locked when he pulled or otherwise opened them.

It could be nerve-racking, at times, living with someone that strong. Chris was especially concerned about his children, even though they hadn't complained once and Alan swore he was extra gentle with them. 

_Speaking of children_…Chris's eyes fell to Seth, who took a sip of his Hawaiian punch before sliding off his chair and onto the ground.

The little Redfield was feeling quite bored. _Why do the grownups think this is fun? All we do is sit here and talk about boring stuff. That is, when we **do** talk. _

Having a lot of pent-up energy, what he most wanted to be doing right now was playing with his Uncle Alan, but no; Alan was fishing, and his daddy clearly didn't want any of that to change. 

_I bet Alan's daddy never made him fish like this. _He began scooping sand onto his out-stretched legs, loving the warm yet rough feel of the granules against his skin.

He looked up and noticed his father staring at him. He was about to say something when Chris turned away and stared out into the ocean. 

A minute slipped by. Two. Neither adult said a word.

Seth frowned. This would not do. At least when people were talking he had something to listen to. And since nobody looked ready to break into conversation any time soon, he decided to break the ice himself.

" Hey, I made it to a new boss in _President Evil_." He said cheerfully.

" Oh really? " Alan chimed. He was quite familiar with the game himself. In fact, he had had to help Seth with it quite a bit, especially with some of the harder puzzles that there was no way the five-year old could understand. " Which one? "

" Abe Lincoln."

Chris leaned in, listening to the conversation with a muted interest. Video games had never been his strong point. He was lucky to get past the first level of _Spyro _without getting done in at least once or twice.

" Abe's not that hard. Just keep at him with the shotgun until you wear him out and he mutates into his second form. Then hide behind the earthmover and let 'em have it with the 'ol assault rifle. Make sure you only hit his head though, otherwise you're wasting your shots. Three clips should do it. Save all your big ammo, you're going to need it for the final boss, and he's the hardest to kill. In fact, you'll need Webber's special magnum to even hurt him."

" Something happens to Webber? " Seth sounded upset.

" Don't get too attached to him…he's a traitor."

" Really? "

" Yes. He set the Liberty squad up and helped the mad politics kill Jamie and Cass. He wants to kill Sammy too. Webber is bad news. He secretly works for the White House. "

Seth shook his head. " Gees, I always thought Webber was kinda cool…'an he says really cool things. Does he die? "

" Welllll….." Alan trailed off uncomfortably, unsure how to phrase this, " That's open to debate…."

" I'm not sure I want him playing a violent game like that." Chris interrupted, " What's the rating on that thing anyway? " He looked to Alan expectantly.

" Teen." Alan replied calmly. He didn't see any reason why Seth shouldn't be allowed to play. 

Chris was of a different opinion. " Eh…I don't know about that. _President Evil _reminds me of another game with a similar name that…"

" Lunchtime! " Jill called, interrupting the discussion about the super-cool game _President Evil._

That was it all it took.

Seth shot up in a flash. " Lunch! Whoopeeee! " Both hungry and excited, he ran to the picnic table as fast as his legs could carry him.

Always ready for the occasion, Jill was standing near the grill and fire-pit, getting paper plates ready and waiting to meet him. A platter of hamburgers sat in the center of the large-yet-portable picnic table, surrounded on all sides by bags of chips, coleslaws, hotdogs, and other various camping goodies; including a fresh cut watermelon.

Once her son was situated at the end of the table, Jill sat a festive kiddie's plate in front of him with all the makings of a well-balanced meal. Grabbing a spoon, Seth went to work right away on his Jello.

Seconds later, and he was joined by his little sister Crystal. Patiently, she waited for her food, one of her tiny hands clasping tightly around an exceptionally pretty seashell Alexis had helped her find. Like Seth, she was also dressed for the weather in a pretty pink '_Girls Rule' _tee with matching shorts and sandals. Her dark-brown-almost-black hair was done up into a cute little ponytail fastened with a red scrunchie. Blue-green eyes highlighted a babyishly cute face. 

Jill smiled warmly. She loved both her kids very much and always did the best she could to raise them in a healthy and caring environment. So far they seemed to be really enjoying their little family outting at the beach_. Thank god for Alan and Alexis,_ she thought, loading Crystal's plate with carefully-measured portions of food, _the kids really love them and they help me and Chris out tremendously by watching them. _

It was true. Both Redfield parents had noticed the way Alan and Alexis seemed to relish spending a lot of quality time with their kids. They played games with them, took them to the movies, made trips to the park, indulged in family-oriented outside activities such as dodgeball and tag, and to top it off, they even allowed the kids over to their house some nights to play video games.

Since Alexis's house was just across the street from theirs, all Jill and Chris had to do any time one or both of the kids came up missing was just head on over there and nine times out of ten they would find Seth and Alan playing a two-player video game while Crystal and Alexis looked on, sometimes waiting their turn and sometimes playing with Crystal's toys or reading. 

Alexis loved to read stories to the children. And when the kids stayed the night, she would lay in there with them and sing to them until they fell sound asleep. Jill thought she had a beautiful singing voice.

All that was fine and dandy, except for one tiny detail: it made both Jill and Chris feel guilty whenever they couldn't spend that much time with their offspring. Being Captain of S.T.A.R.S., Chris was often very busy with work and Jill had a lot on her plate too between house-keeping and her job as the S.T.A.R.S. intelligence . Alan and Alexis always seemed to have loads of spare time on their hands; which, now that she thought about it, made sense. 

Though Alexis was contemplating opening a coffee and/or bookshop someday using some of her leftover inheritance, she was not currently employed beyond offering to help the S.T.A.R.S. out from time to time.

As for Alan, he was on the S.T.A.R.S. Alpha team, but he was not always needed in all the missions. Chris mostly just used him for firepower.

Lately it seemed to Jill like the Wesker and Ashford duo were taking hers and Chris's place as loving parents to their children. It was not a happy thought, and on a deeper level that even she herself would not admit it made her kind of resentful towards them. Though she did a good job of hiding it, her subconscious thoughts were somewhere along the lines of: _Gees, if they like kids so much, why don't they just go have their own?_

Of course, with Alan's virus that might not even be possible. 

" So, how did your sandcastle go? " Jill asked her daughter.

" Gweat! It wast Pwetty! " Crystal replied, her words distorted partially due to her young age and partially due to the food she was stuffing into her mouth as she talked.

It was just as well. Being barely three years old Crystal didn't talk very good anyway.

Alexis approached the table, but stared at the food as if it were not even remotely desirable. 

She looked troubled about something. 

" Something wrong? " Jill asked, hoping that it wasn't her cooking. The way the other woman was staring at it made her wonder. 

Alexis bit her lower lip nervously, the shadow of worry wearing heavily on her face. " There's…something's not right. A change in the wind. We should leave soon."

As she spoke, Chris, Claire, Alan, and Steve came up behind her, grabbing plates and heaping them with food.

" I reeled the lines in for awhile." Chris remarked, winking at his wife while grabbing some burgers, " Fish aren't biting very well today anyway." Then he noticed Alexis, and all thoughts he had of fishing momentarily left his mind. " What is it? "

Alexis shook her head. " I'm not sure, I just have a bad feeling for some reason." That in itself deeply unsettled her. As the years had progressed, Alexis had discovered she had sort of psychic gift; probably inherited from her parents--most likely Alexia. It wasn't anything real big--she couldn't read minds, nor did she have visions or anything like that, but in addition to being good at sensing emotions, she could also sometimes sense danger. Just the fact that she was having a bad feeling made her have a bad feeling.

She settled down next to Alan and he gave her a comforting pat on the shoulder. " Don't worry. It'll be alright." 

He may have said more had his eyes not drifted to Steve at that moment, who was sitting straight across from him and just to the right of Claire. He was also spooning big hulking messy globs of coleslaw into his mouth at a very fast pace.

Alan made a disgusted face. " You need a shovel with that? "

Steve paused to grin, teeth coated in coleslaw. " Hey, you gonna finish that? " He asked, pointing to Alan's untouched burger.

" Finish? How can I finish something I haven't even started yet? " It was unbelievable. Steve was acting like he hadn't eaten in years!

" Great! " The lanky father-to-be started to reach across the table; perhaps just in play or perhaps because he really intended to snatch the food.

He never got that far.

Alan's hand came down upon his, trapping it against the table. " You really want a broken hand, don't you? "

" Aw, you know it would just heal."

Alan squeezed a bit, not hard enough to break his comrade's hand but hard enough to make him unquestionably uncomfortable. " Wanna test that theory? "

Steve winced. " Fine, fine. You win! Let go! "

" Alrighty then." Alan released his hold.

Steve withdrew his hand, examining it like he half expected it to be a different color. It wasn't, but it was a little sore. He rubbed it with the palm of his other hand.

" Gees, is it just me, or are you a little testy today Virus Boy? "

" I'm not testy, you're just annoying." Alan took a bite of his burger.

Chris could have laughed. He found the banter between Alan and Steve very funny. Those two just couldn't seem to leave each other alone! But it really wasn't in a malicious or cruel way. In fact, he was starting to suspect that Mr. Wesker and Mr. Burnside were in fact good friends, though neither would admit it. They certainly got on each other's nerves enough.

Alexis was starting to get a little more nervous. That feeling of dread she had knotted up in the pit of her stomach just would not go away, and she couldn't shake the feeling that something was about to go terribly wrong.

She gazed skyward, ignoring the yammerings of her peers in the background. Overhead the sky was swelling with thick, dark clouds blowing up from out of nowhere. The largest blotted the sun, casting the entire island into a gloomy shadow. A chill wind flared up and decimated the temperature. It was only 2pm, but it looked and felt as if it were much later.

All over the island, trees and plants began to sway in the strengthening winds. 

_This is not a good sign, _Alexis's instinct told her, we have to leave, now! Frantic, she looked back at the table, at her friends. They were lost in multiple conversations, all except for Jill and Alan. 

She saw the latter glance up an remove his shades, folding them neatly and slipping them into his pocket. At the moment his color-changing eyes were red encircling gold with the pupils slightly less slitted, they way they always were when he wanted to get a really good look at something. 

Then he looked back down, and their eyes met. 

He was troubled too. His expression was one of nagging worry. 

" I sense it too." He said softly, his voice barely above a whisper, " Clouds don't blow up that fast. It was clear sky not more than ten minutes ago. And the animals are being unusually quite, like there's an approaching storm."

At the other end of the table, Seth shivered. " I'm cold."

" Yeah, what's with the sudden temperature drop? " Jill agreed, looking around.

It wasn't just them; in fact everyone was beginning to notice the weird weather. It had been close to eighty-five degrees only minutes before. Now it was most definitely in the sixties and dropping still.

A sharp gust of wind caught an empty plastic _'Safeway' _bag from the group's supplies and blew it down the darkened beach at what appeared to be 50mph.

The whole sky was now dark with ominous clouds as far as the eye could see. A bolt of lightning spilt the heavens; a fantastic snake of white energy. Seconds later, it was followed by an audible _'KaBOOM!' _

Not one of the S.T.A.R.S. liked the sound of that. They exchanged worried glances.

" A storm? This wasn't in the weather report at all! " Chris gasped, unable to believe the bad luck, " It was supposed to stay warm all night! It said so on the radio! "

" Yeah, well, apparently _it_," Steve bobbed his head in a gesture upwards indicating the storm, " doesn't listen to the radio."

" What are we gonna do? " Seth shuddered, scared. He didn't like storms. All the thunder, lightning, and big wind frightened him. It was easy to imagine giant monsters up there, fighting with each other and ready to fall to earth at any minute.

" We're just going to have to weather it out." Jill worded what everyone had been thinking, " It's too dangerous to fly in this kind of weather! Quick everyone, grab whatever you can and head for the jet! " 

Chris nodded. " You heard what she said, let's go go go! " He was reasonably worried himself. Though he never really considered himself a science buff, Chris was smart enough to know that storms didn't just spawn out of a clear blue sky in less than fifteen minutes flat. He hadn't even seen any clouds on the horizon…where had the storm-clouds come from?

There was much hurrying to cover up the food and pack things up.

Without warning, an ear-splitting scream pierced the air; the inhuman cry of a beast unlike any ever heard before.

" What was th…" Claire never got the chance to finish her sentence.

A mighty whip of crackling blue energy leapt out of the sky and struck the bare sand not ten feet away.

In the blink of an eye it had happened.

In the blink of an eye everyone disappeared.

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That's it for now! Like my pal Sych77 I'm awfully fond of cliffhanger endings! XD I'm evil you see. =^-^= 

Now for the Author responses….

**Kisu-Ayla**: _Yes, a dragon. Sorry if you didn't care much for that, but I did say that this fic would have more than the usual amount of magic in it. =) I definitely have big plans for Wesker, just don't expect to see him for a few more chapters yet. I'm setting it up for him, but there's still a few more things I want to happen before he actually arrives. Hang in there. ^^;;_

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LaVixen: _A new reader! Thanks for your review! And *blush* for the high praise. ^_^ I hate Writer's Block. May it never darken your keyboard_.

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Demon Eyes Kyo: _Your question: Will there be a nemesis? My answer: You'll see. I think you may be pleasantly surprised. _

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Strange Pixie: _You got the STARS this chappy! =D All your questions will have answers in due time. As for your repeated requests about the phoenix ( Yes, I love them too! ^_^ ) and Kiticore, you'll just have to wait and see. It's too early to say for sure yet what I'll decide to do where they're concerned. ^_~ You'll being seeing more of Spade when Wesker and her arrive on the island. That won't be for a few more chapters though, I have too much I want to do in between. _

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Zarbok: _A story about a man who was half dragon you say?! ^o^ Neat! I always did have a soft spot for dragons! Don't worry, I have no intention of letting my readers down._

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Res1kna4: _Vacations are fun! And I thought it was about time someone put Alexia in her place, her attitude stunk._

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CyootKitty: _Ah, don't worry about it. =^.^= Too early to say what kind of ending this story will have, and Writer's Block sucks large q_uantities of arse. _

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Sych77: _You end up in document manager when you try to review? O_o That's…weird. Hope you get that straightened out. There is a real island with the name Majika? Or close to it? Let me know if you find out for sure, I thought it was a name existing purely in my imagination. The snow all melted. -_- It never stays long where I live._

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Les Enfant: _A big showdown between the Weskers and Ashfords? *gets in thinking pose* Hmmm…what an interesting possible scenario…(^_^)_

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Hello Captain: _Mostly from Shakahnna. ^^;; But I have heard a lot of people saying nice things about you, your story in particular seems to be pretty popular. ^_^ Heheh, I warned all the new readers that they might not understand what was going on unless they read my other fics. No sweat though, there's always plenty of time for you to catch up later if you want. Until then you'll just have to put up with a bit of weirdness. Bear with me. *hands you a cookie* Here's your treat for noticing stuff! =^.^=_

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Katiana: _Don't worry about it, I don't mind. ^^ Hope you liked this chapter just as well._

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Sherry15: _Thank you for the review! You will see more of Wesker a bit later on. I have big plans for him, but I have to set it up just right before he can come in and play a bigger role._

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Moczo: _Glad you are still with me! There will be more battles yet to come, so don't worry. =) And I just couldn't have a good story without Wesker, regardless of how Chris would feel on the matter--I'm very selfish you see. XD _

Thanks for all the reviews everyone! (^_^) You make me so happy! =D


	5. Party Ashford Style!

**Chapter 5**

Veronica snapped her jaws shut. " A wise decision." She lifted her scaly, birdlike foot from Alexia's chest and backed off to allow her room to stand. 

_Crrrack! Sploot! _One of her back feet came down in something lukewarm and soft. _Euew, that feels gross. _Veronica thought, arching her snakelike neck and daring a look.

It was Pierre Vontae'. Of course, she did not know his name, only that her left hind food was on his stomach, crushing his bones beneath her weight. More blood gushed onto the floor. 

Veronica grimaced in disgust and turned away, stepping off his body. _Pardon me, Mr. Dead Guy._

Alexia regained her footing, her puncture wounds already beginning to heal and close up. She concentrated on regaining her human form, then stopped when she realized what she would be dressed in. Or rather, what she _wouldn't _be dressed in.

Tendrils of black and violet magic crackled around Veronica like whips of lightning, and in less than two seconds she was fully human again; dressed in the same dress and wearing the same jewelry as before. She made a face at Alexia.

" Ugh, at least I am pretty when I transform."

Alexia frowned. She was well aware that mutating to any of her three forms was not doing any favors for her looks. Then again, he virus was engineering to be strong and win fights, not beauty contests. _T-Veronica virus, hmphf. I ought to call it something else._

It just wasn't fair that Veronica could have both extreme beauty and extreme power at the same time. All the time and energy she'd spent studying viruses and becoming a scientific genius in order to gain supremacy when all she'd ever had to do to attain _real_ power was study black magic and sorcery.

Of course, being a scientist, she hadn't really believed such things to exist until just today. Veronica was right: there was no point in denying what was in front of your own eyes.

Without warning, Alexia started changing back to human form without willing it to happen! _Oh great, it figures that she would humiliate me like this…or not. _ She was changing back to human, true, but her old outfit magically appeared back on her as if it had never even been burned off.

_Popping things into existence?! _Was there no limit to Veronica's powers?

We're way out of our league. Alfred remarked helpfully via telepathy.

Alexia felt like slapping him. No kidding Einstein. Whatever gave you _that_ idea? She was more than a little moody. Of course, in her ancestor's presence, she was going to have to be moody without _appearing _to be moody. After all, if Veronica could change her own shape she might well be able to turn her into a chicken.

A chicken Alexia wasn't going to be hatching any plots of rebellion.

" Sorry, but I findeth thine form to be most unflattering," Veronica said once Alexia was again fully human, " Strange, I sense no magic from thee, yet thou arst able to transform. May I inquire as to how? "

_You almost got those sentences right Veronica! _Alexia laughed silently. " Actually, I have a virus." 

Veronica cocked an eyebrow. " Thou art ill? "

" No. I possess a virus that enables me to metamorphose to a superior form and throw fire. It's a rare strain from a gene I found inside the DNA structure of a queen ant."

" Viruses have becometh good now? That's…interesting. Tell me, where doth thy main sources of information lie these days? "

Alexia was about to answer when a small choking noise from the far wall alerted Veronica to Ash; still wound up in vines and one hundred percent miserable. 

" Hold that thought." Veronica waved to Alexia in a gesture that meant 'wait.' Purposefully, and with an air of dignity befitting a queen, she strode over to her descendant. " I am thy Mistress now. Dost thou comprehend? " She snapped her fingers and the vine over Ash's mouth vanished.

He nodded very agreeably. " Thou comprehendst!" 

A sly smirk crossed Veronica's cherry-red lips. " Good." She turned away and the rest of the vines shriveled up into nothingness, obeying some unspoken command.

As soon as he was free, Ash ran up to his mother and stood slightly behind her; like he was a small child who needed protected from some big bad bogeymonster.

Alexia glanced at him and rolled her eyes. There were instances when her son made her proud, but this certainly wasn't one of them. In fact, it was Ash's fault that Veronica had been freed in the first place. By all rights he should be punished for his ineptness. But that would have to wait until later, after Veronica had been dealt with. 

Fortunately, at the moment Veronica had her back turned to them; her attention now focused on Alfred. So she never noticed the way Alexia clenched her fists, or the glare of pure, undiluted hatred her descendant was giving her.

" I am thy Mistress now, understood? " She demanded more than asked of Alfred.

Alfred nodded weakly. " I understand."

" Great! " The vines holding him disappeared.

Veronica rubbed her hands together in gleeful anticipation. " Now that's that been cleared up, oh humble descendants of thine, where be this large sources of information thou spokest of? I've been gone for so dreadfully long and need to catch up. "

Alexia gritted her teeth, trying her hardest to be civil. " This way Veronica." She lead the way out of the room, Alfred and Ash on her heels.

Veronica followed at the back, curious about all she was about to experience and see.

Alexia, do you think Veronica can hear our telepathy? Alfred wondered.

Who knows? Came Alexia's agitated reply, With her kind of power it's very possible. We'd be safest assuming she can.

Alfred said nothing more--in fact he was a little worried his sorceress ancestor may even be able to read minds, and if that was the case they were all going to be in very, very big trouble. 

For once in their lives, the Ashford twins weren't in control. 

Alfred was scared. All his life he'd been confident that Alexia had all the answers, that he had so much to learn from her. _My god, I've been so blithe. _

As time went on, he was beginning to learn that his beloved sister was not infallible. She'd made some mistakes. One of those mistakes had gotten her killed.

_Not that I'm one to point fingers. I was the imbecile who attacked a reasonably brassed off prisoner wielding sub-machine guns._

He winced at the memory. That carelessness had cost him his life. Done in by Steve Burnside. _Why that dirty…_

Alfred's thoughts switched to obscenities to call Steve. The list was quite long. He hated Steve with a bitter, deathless hatred. But it was sweetly brief, for his mind quickly changed back to Alexia and his worry intensified.

For being a genius, Alexia sure made a lot of mistakes. Besides being killed, she'd also lost the battle at the HCF plant. More recently, in Africa, she'd mutated to her most powerful form and lost a climatic battle to the Weskers and a handful of half-dead S.T.A.R.S. members thanks to zoning out for some inexplicable reason. That was when Ash had lost his eye. It was only thanks to the mercy of Alan Wesker that any of them had survived at all.

Alfred still loved his sister, and there was not a thing he would not do to please her, but lately he was starting to lose faith in her. Her past errors did not exactly inspire confidence in the mission. 

Alexia led them downstairs. After passing a few staff and housekeepers who barely glanced at the new 'guest' Veronica, they reached a room that was clearly the library with tombs of books spanning the walls and several shelves in the center of the area. To the far corner sat a computer. It was this that Alexia led Veronica to.

" It's called a computer." She explained, " It contains vast amounts of data and knowledge. You can find out just about anything you wish to know with it."

Veronica ran her fingers over the keyboard gingerly. " Impressive." She was staring at the screen, which currently had a screensaver of the Ashford family crest on it.

Ash wiggled the mouse and the screen changed, causing Veronica to draw back and squeal with delight. 

" It is like magic! "

Alfred and Alexia exchanged funny looks, amused by Veronica's reaction. Wide-eyed and attentive, their ancestor was spellbound.

Now the screen showed the homepage of Ebay, the site apparently last visited by some thoughtless user who had left without remembering to turn the computer off.

" Here, I can show you how to…" Ash offered, and was stopped.

" Nevermind. I already have thy means of extracting knowledge from this delightful contraption." As she spoke her fingers hovered over the keyboard.

A green mist began to emit from her outstretched fingers. Alexia thought it looked akin to the green poison gas discharged by both Nosferatu and herself when she was mutated. 

The mist touched the keyboard. Yellow tendrils of electricity seemed to shoot out of the very machine itself, snaking up into her fingers the way electricity appeared to when touching a lightning orb. 

Veronica stiffened, standing ramrod straight and still. It was then that Alexia noticed her eyes: each was like a tiny computer screen shuffling through several webpages at an insane speed--millions of kilobytes of data per second!

" Whoa! " Ash yelped, " I can read things off your eyes! Or I would be able to if you weren't changing the pages so fast. Slow down a little! I thought I saw one about Ted Bundy! "

His request was duly ignored. Veronica was lost in her own little world.

The images! The sounds! The sheer color, beauty, and harmony with which the pictures worked together to convey their knowledge! " Wow, the human civilization has advanced far more than I could possibly have imagined! "

Suddenly, Veronica stopped, moving her hands away from the keyboard and breaking all magical ties with the machine. She turned to her family, her eyes resuming their natural violet color. Then she began to sway a little; a stupid, thoughtless expression on her face, like maybe she had had one drink too many.

The other Ashfords just stared at her, at the moment unsure how to react.

" Yo, wazzup me homies? " Veronica sputtered, using words that even Alexia was not familiar with. She turned to Ash, a cheesy grin plastered on her face, " T'sup dawg? Yo catch that new vid on teh box? Or maybe yo be chillen in teh crib? "

Before he had time to reply, she burst out laughing for no obvious reason at all.

" Cool! " Ash grinned. Maybe this Veronica chick wasn't so bad after all.

Alfred and Alexia gawked at each other, eyes wide in disbelief.

" She's nuts! " Alfred declared.

" Totally insane! " Alexia agreed.

To which Veronica just giggled in response. Like a silly schoolgirl.

Do you think we oughta….

Not yet, Alexia replied, She may still be dangerous. We'll just wait and see. Logic dictated that they be cautious. An insane sorceress was possibly even more dangerous than a sane one. _Although I think I preferred the butchered Olde English to the gibberish she's speaking now._

" Veronica, are you…alright? " Alexia asked hesitantly.

Veronica threw back her head and roared with laughter.

" I don't get it," Ash said aloud, his icy-blue eyes darting back and forth between his parents and Veronica, " What's so funny? "

Alfred couldn't resist himself. He joined right in, laughing in that disturbingly feminine way of his.

Shut up! Alexia's thoughtspeak voice snapped inside his head, This isn't funny! We've just become slaves to a crazy sorceress who is obviously losing touch with reality! Alfred's outburst was an insult to the family name in itself. _We should be trying to figure this out, not standing around laughing like a bunch of raving lunatics!_

It was absurd.

It was beyond absurd, it was downright ridiculous.

" Headrush! I never felt better! " Veronica cackled, " Music! What marvelous music! I must have some, _now_! " With a snap of her fingers music blared from the computer speakers.

The song was called, _'You Say it Best' _and it was about ten times louder than necessary.

Veronica giggled with glee. " Is that cool or what? " She howled above the blare, an insane light in her eyes. She grabbed Ash's hand. " Let's dance! "

" Dance? Whaaa…" Ash's words were slurred as Veronica tossed him to one side, then promptly tripped over her dress and fell on top of him on the floor.

Alexia shook her head, disgusted.

" Hmmm…I almost forgot! This infernal dress is like, soooo two hundred years ago! " She sprang to her feet and waved her hand downwards, a gesture that started first at the top of her head and ended at her waist.

Instantly she was clad in stylish, hip-hugger blue jeans and black platform shoes complete with a red tank-top. A spiked chain-gang collar graced her neck where once a necklace had been. Her flowing red hair was cut neat and short, reaching halfway down her neck.

Alexia's jaw dropped.

The girl standing before her looked like an air-headed mall-crawling sixteen year old and not a powerful sorceress who had lived over 150 years.

_I have to take orders from **her**?! This just isn't right! _It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair at all.

" Wow, that's…different." Ash remarked, regaining his feet.

" Ah, I needed a change in style." Veronica said, her tone halfway serious for the first time since the computer incident, " Modern attire for the modern girl! " Thankfully, all traces of the Olde English were gone now, replaced by the modern English vocabulary.

" Really? How old are you? " Alexia managed over the noisy lyrics.

Veronica shot her a poisonous look. " Never ask a sorceress her age. It's rude." She twitched a finger and sent a small yarn-like bolt of something light blue at her.

Alexia moved to the side, but the magic grazed her right pinkie, sending a deep chill through her nerves. _So she doesn't have to be a dragon to perform cryokinesis. _It was useful knowledge, but for Pete's sake why did she always have to learn the _hard _way?

" Hey, it was just a question! " Alfred snapped, springing to Alexia's defense, " How are we supposed to know a sorceress's customs? "

Veronica halted mid-step with Ash. Her carefree, clueless expression was replaced with a dead serious one. Her eyes narrowed on Alfred, causing him to cringe back, surely regretting his words.

" Is that a challenge then? " 

The music stopped.

Alfred's heart pounded fiercely in his chest. " A…a challenge? " He stuttered, his voice weak and girl-like, " Of course not, Mistress. My apologies."

Veronica nodded, satisfied. " Good."

The music roared back to life and she resumed flinging Ash around the room, showing off moves never seen before.

Alexia took this opportunity to try and slip out the door.

It was not to be. 

" Stay awhile." There was a metallic click as the door locked all on it's own. Two chairs that had previously been positioned at a back reading table suddenly flew at the Ashford twins, as if possessed.

" Gah! " Alfred and Alexia agreed. They tried to move out of the way, but an invisible force thrust them rather unceremoniously into the "haunted" seats.

" Veronica, what do you want us to…"

Forget it, Alfred, she's not going to listen. Alexia's telepathic voice sighed. She sagged down into her seat, miserable.

Helpless, that's what she was, helpless. She didn't even have the power to stop the music, much less Veronica. Delicately, she rested her hand on the armrest of Alfred's chair and was not surprised when it was joined by his. 

This is like a nightmare. Alexia sounded almost ready to cry.

Things were just not going her way today. First Ash had broken a priceless family heirloom, then that Veronica bitch had shown up and nearly killed her, and now this. 

Alexia hated _'You Say it Best'_. And once that song ended it just started up all over again like a CD stuck on _repeat_.

No worries, Dear Sister. I am sure that with your genius you will be able to work something out. I mean, look at her, He gestured towards Veronica, who was still swinging an unfortunate Ash all over the room like there was no tomorrow despite the song being relatively slow, she isn't exactly the _brightest _crayon in the box. 

True. Alexia agreed. Neither twin was worried about Veronica eavesdropping--if she even could--at the moment because the loud blare of the music was enough to break anyone's concentration. Not only that, but Veronica was preoccupied with torturing Ash. However, she possesses not only pyrokinesis but cryokinesis, electrokinesis, telekinesis, and probably every other form of kinesis. Not to mention her ability to shapeshift into a dragon and Lord knows what else in the blink of an eye. Plus she has the capacity to pop things into existence. And all of these she can perform at will. 

I have confidence in you. Alfred said solidly, comfortingly. It wasn't the entire truth, but what was he going to tell her: that he thought she was outdone this time?

Alexia didn't even bother looking at him. Actually, it will just make victory that much sweeter. 

Alfred blinked. Had he heard right?

Yes, Alexia pulled her hand away from his and examined her perfect nails, Veronica Ashford will go down. She already made a fatal mistake today. 

" Hellllp meeeeee! " Ash cried out, tired of being flipped around like a ragdoll.

Alfred just watched his son's quandary. _Better him than me. _To Alexia he said, " Really? What was that? "

She let me live. She purred, her voice assuming the same wicked, murderous tone she usually only reserved for victims she intended to kill, She has shown mercy. Fool, I most certainly shall not show _her_ any. 

Alfred did not doubt it for a second. His sister liked to play cutthroat--once you were down that was it. No fair play. No second chances. The law of survival, kill or be killed.

Veronica danced on, oblivious to the two minds plotting her demise, focusing only on the moment.

You have a plan? Alfred's voice carried an edge of excitement.

Give it time, Alexia answered, just give it time.

************************************************************************

From her room down in the basement, Alexandra's sensitive ears picked up the heavy beat of music being played a dozen times louder than the norm. Even stranger, it happened to be one of her favorite songs that was repeating over and over again. 

_Odd, my mom would never permit music that loud, especially not that song._

She sat the data chart she'd been working on aside and glanced over at Sultan, her pet tiger cub sprawled out peacefully along the length of her bed.

When she looked his direction the young tiger yawned; revealing gleaming white teeth sharp as needles.

" Mmmrrowrf? " He purred, tail twitching slightly in happiness.

Alexandra smiled.

Sultan had been a Christmas present from her father. Three months old now, he was pretty close to the size of a medium dog. He was good company, and an even better playmate.

Alexandra loved him dearly.

" What do you think, Sultan? Can you picture my mother playing a song that loud? Especially one about friendship and loyalty? "

The question, of course, was rhetorical. Like every other member of his species, Sultan did not understand any form of human language beyond a few simple commands. He sneezed.

Smiling, Alexandra abandoned her seat where she was researching the nature of viruses to go over and pet the tiger. " Me neither." She scratched gently behind his fluffy ears, and her animal companion gave a mewl of comfort. " Come on, let's go check it out."

************************************************************************

****

Ok, I'm going to leave off there for now. =^-^= Sorry for those of you who were hoping to find out what happened to the STARS this chapter, but I'll get to that in Chapter 6. 

__

Now, for all of my new readers out there who may not have been following the rest of my stories, I'll give a little run-down of the deal behind Alexandra. First introduced in Chapter 3 of The Legacy of the Ashfords the story which details her birth, Alexandra is the 3rd child of Alfred and Alexia. Born 6 months early on December 10th of the year 2000, ( Around a year after A New Tide takes place ) she was born with an extremely high concentration of the T-Veronica virus in her cells that causes her to grow extremely fast. Thus she is technically only 3 years old in this story, though her body is that of an 8 year old girl. She can throw bits of fire like her mother ( though not to such a powerful extent ), is very strong for a child, and is also very smart for her age, but not a genius. The first real role she played was in the predecessor to this fic Crimson Africa. Check out my other stories if you are interested in learning more about her background. =^.^=


	6. Empty Places

**__**

A/N: Ok, before I go on, I would like to give a very special thanks to fanfic extraordinaire Hello Captain for being my beta this chapter and for helping me out with some of Alexia's lines ( She's really much better at that kind of thing than I am, I am the person you go to if you want help with making someone sound more like a complete idiot ). Since I am aiming to keep the game's characters as much in character as possible, this was a big help to me! =D Thanks Captain! Couldn't have done it without you! =^.^= *Gives Hello Captain a salute* 

Chapter 6

" Alright, any song requests now? " Veronica asked, finally allowing a tired Ash a chance to rest. 

He dropped to the floor. Looked up. Regarded his ancestor in much the same way a student might a gym teacher who was assigning too many push-ups so soon after the last ones.

Much to everyone's relief, the music had stopped, casting the room into an uncomfortable silence.

" Well? " Veronica repeated, a little miffed that nobody was talking. The sorceress intensely disliked silence.

" Anything but Alison Krauss." Alexia moaned, miserable. 

" Did I hear Alison Krauss? " Veronica piped up, excited. She turned to Alfred, a mischievous gleam in her eye.

Alfred shook his head quickly, horrified by the hint of what she wanted to do. " No! No _anything _but that! " 

Hadn't she tortured him enough already? Sitting for over a half hour straight ( which felt more like five hours ) being forced to listen to the same song over and over again was enough to drive anybody nuts. _And if I wasn't crazy before…_

Veronica grabbed his arm and jerked him out of his seat. " I'll be needing a new dance partner, seeing as how my last one gave out." She gestured to Ash, who breathed a sigh of relief. 

Alfred shot his sister a pleading look as he was dragged away onto the 'dance floor'. Is this…karma? Are we paying for all the bad things we did? 

It would seem. Alexia replied. She was still trying to formulate that foolproof plan. Of course, actually having a plan would mean knowing Veronica's weakness. Alexia couldn't just walk up to her and inject her with a virus the way she had done so many others. In fact, a virus wasn't likely to affect a sorceress at all.

" Hey, y'all watch this! " Veronica giggled, flipping Alfred to one side while simultaneously swinging herself in the opposite direction. This turned out to be a bad idea. Veronica had overlooked the bookshelf, and the discourteous book holder refused to move.

_Crash! _She plowed right into it backside first, lost her footing, and fell in a wild rain of books. Several volumes from the higher level of the shelf hit her on the head. During all the commotion, she had lost touch with Alfred and he was flung free of the disaster, much to his relief.

Alexia gazed on in disbelief. Not only was Veronica loopy, she way also a klutz! _No way…there is no **way** I can be descended from her! _The woman was a genetic failure.

Veronica looked up from her seat in the mass of scattered books and splintered wood. Her expression was that of a guilty child when faced by it's parents.

" Um…I meant to do that."

" Then it worked rather well." Alexia scoffed, her tone biting. Such a pity her red-haired ancestor couldn't have pulled that move near a pit of lava.

Veronica pulled herself up, walked away from the mess. " Alexia, why don't you clean that up."

Alexia couldn't believe it. " I beg your pardon? "

Veronica had the audacity to make _her_ clean up after her?

The new family Mistress looked annoyed. " Don't you have ears? Or are those fleshy pink things on the sides of your head croissants? I said _clean it up! _" 

To further punctuate her seriousness, she lowered her hand and shook it low, palm clenched, as if rolling dice. When she opened her hand to 'throw' a slithering bolt of black magic shot forth and hit Alexia in the thigh, causing her to reel back.

" Very well then." The former ant queen muttered, " Your petulance is most unnecessary." Though the powerbolt had been a mere bee sting, she had no desire to further enrage her magically inclined ancestor. 

As degrading as it was, she was just going to have to do Veronica's bidding.

More pissed than she could ever remember being, Alexia left her seat and began her task; mind swimming with thoughts best not mentioned, thoughts rated a strong _'R'_.

Alfred was taken aback. " I don't get it, you're a sorceress, can't you just wave your arms and _poof_, the mess is clean? "

Veronica rolled her eyes, looking so much like the typical airhead teenager. " Yes, but that's not the _point_. I don't like her attitude. Besides, you people need to have something to do besides bask in the glow of the perfectness that is me." As she said this she ran a hand through her shiny red hair with the air of someone who thinks they are truly the greatest thing to walk the planet.

Alfred was not impressed. _What a self-righteous snob. The instant she appeared in this house our lives went straight to Hell. _He started over to assist his sister.

Veronica had other ideas. " That's her job! " She grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and threw him back. " Don't worry, I shall think of something for you to do in due time." She turned to Ash. " You too."

Ash frowned but said nothing. What was there to say? He couldn't very well argue with her.

Once she felt that her family fully understood who was boss, Veronica turned away, putting her hand to her forehead. Something was bothering her. There was something she should be doing, something very important. Something she could not quite remember.

" Ugh. Think Veronica, _think! _" She said aloud, receiving odd stares from all the other Ashfords save Alfred who had long since mastered the art of talking to himself, " Something I have to do…there was the prophecy, and then the teacup…someone I have to take down before I can advance my plans…bollocks, why can't I remember? "

Alexia, Alfred, and Ash did not reply. At least, not verbally. 

The door opened and Alexandra entered the room, Sultan at her heels.

" Aw, what a cute little girl." Veronica smiled. She had always had a bit of a soft spot for children, " And hey, ya even have a tiger cub for a pet. What's your name? "

Veronica's tone was friendly, but Alexandra could still sense the thick unease in the air. Her parents and brother seemed to be afraid of this strange new woman. Especially her mother. _I've never seen her pick up a mess on her own._

" I'm Alexandra," Alexandra introduced sweetly, the politeness coming natural to her, " and this is Sultan." She reached down and patted the big orange and black kitty on the head. 

Veronica cocked her head to one side, the golden sparkle in her hair at just the right angle to give her an almost heavenly, angelic appearance. 

" You must be Alfred and Alexia's daughter, right? "

" Right." Alfred grumbled, and Veronica shot him a warning glare that could melt lead. " I wasn't asking you, _Alfie_." Turning back to Alexandra, she said, " I am Mistress Veronica Ashford." She kneeled on one knee and extended a hand, " I'm your great great great great grandmother. Or something like that. Wicked cool, huh? "

Alexandra was a little unsettled, but the woman seemed friendly enough so she took her hand in a shake. " Yeah."

She was startled when Veronica drew her hand back quickly, her face an odd mix of shock and awe.

" Well, what do you know? That's something I've not seen in…a long, long time."

" What? " Alexia had to know. She couldn't help but to be curious. After all, she had a natural thirst for knowledge and hated it when someone knew something she didn't. 

What was it about her daughter that astounded Veronica so? Truly, the sorceress was spellbound.

In reply to the questions, Veronica's eyes went around the room once, twice, studying each Ashford in turn. Then she burst into laughter. " How terribly ironic! "

" What? " Alexia, Alfred, and Ash asked in unison.

Veronica waved a hand dismissively. " Oh, you wouldn't understand even if I told you. But your child is quite the rare creature. I have never seen anyone quite like her."

" Kindly enlighten us as to the source of your bemusement." Alexia pressed, trying her hardest to mask the displeasure she felt about being told she wouldn't understand something.

Veronica shook her head slightly, gently biting her lower lip in wonder. " I have never seen one this pure. This should be interesting. Very interesting."

" Please elucidate further, Veronica." Alexia asked.

Veronica shot her a disdainful look. " You know, for being a genius you sure ask a lot of stupid questions."

Alexia bit her tongue, holding back the millions of insults that came to mind. Instead she asked, " By what means did you come by this knowledge? " 

" Phfft! Please, I got wired with your computer, remember? There were a few files on you…not much, which I find rather intriguing, but it did mention that you were a genius. Several times, actually. You named a virus after me. How very sweet of you. I'm flattered. Really." She rolled her eyes again, shattering whatever illusion the others may have had about those being heartfelt remarks. " Other people get their own cities. I get my own virus."

" What you saw in me, was it bad? " Alexandra asked, worried.

" Bad? " Veronica nearly choked laughing.

" I doubt it. That's mushy wushy Carebear Alexandra who sets all the dragonflies free and protects mice from the needle. Makes me wanna heave just thinking about it." Ash remarked.

Alexia narrowed her eyes. " So that's what happened to my dragonflies! Bad show, Alexandra. "

" But you were hurting them." Alexandra argued weakly. She wouldn't have mentioned anything at all if not for the fact that Veronica were nearby. Her mother had a violent temper about these things.

" That's just your problem," Alfred hissed, " You're too damned _nice_! "

" Already the stamp of failure is upon you! " Alexia agreed.

Veronica was thoughtful. " Well, it is something of a setback, but I think it could work to my advantage. After all, this one is a special case, if nudged in the right direction she could be…" No sooner had she gotten the words out of her mouth than she reeled back, like the victim of a shockwave from some invisible explosion, howling in pain. Landing on her butt, she put a hand over her right eye, massaging it gently.

Alexia moved in like a hungry vulture waiting until the prey was weakened. The instant that happened, the instant Veronica became too weak to defend herself, she would swoop in for the kill.

" Are you alright M'Dear? "

Veronica rose to her feet quickly, almost as if sensing her intentions. Nevertheless, she looked shaken. Fear flickered across her radiant eyes for just the quickest of moments. It did not last long though.

" I vit my thung." She winced, briefly tasting the sweet elixir that was her own special blood.

Alfred made a face, though it was not really a sympathetic one. " Ouch."

There was something different about Veronica's posture now, it was a little more serious, a little more disciplined,

_Something's made her nervous. _An ever so slight grin curved at Alexia's lips, _That means something can hurt her. I must discover what or whom!_ Her eyes locked with Veronica's.

There was a certain ferocity in the sorceress's glare; a fiery ambition and rugged defiance.

Alexia was forced to look away, lest Veronica decide that staring was rude.

It proved to be a wise decision. 

" _Discord_." Veronica spit the name like a swearword, with as much passion and sheer raw hatred as Alexia did the name _Chris_. Her glower could freeze Hell. 

" She's at it again, she wants to finish it." Veronica went on, and the other Ashfords could have been chopped liver right then for all she was concerned, " We must go to my place of power, my old castle on Majika Island."

She turned to the others at last, the familiar dopey visage back in place. " Road trip anyone? "

" Road trip? To an island? " Alfred laughed.

Veronica ignored him. " Oh…roadtriproadtriproadtrip! " She cackled insanely, rubbing both hands together and bouncing up and down. She looked positively ecstatic.

Alfred turned to his twin. Am I the only one who questions her sanity? 

I'll question it once I see some evidence of it! 

" Lets…go! " Veronica snapped her fingers and instantly everything changed.

No library. No computer. No mansion. They were standing on a warm, sandy, tropical island which was apparently 'Majika Island'. 

A soft breeze drifted by lazily, playing with the leaves of the tall palms and fronds surrounding them on three sides. Ahead was a large area of pale beach oddly devoid of all forms of plant life. It was this sparse area that Veronica was focused on.

" Wow, you can teleport! " Alexandra's cheer was met by weird stares from her parents and brother. She hugged Sultan tightly--the little tiger cub was spooked. " Calm down Sultan. It's alright. We're just…um…on a beach now. It's okay. Nothing's going to hurt you."

Her family turned away, disgusted. 

Veronica never even noticed. She was too caught up in staring at the ground. " Hmmm…a lot has changed since last I was here, but I recognize it just the same. My old stomping ground. My fortress." 

Her eye caught the lone volcano a few miles off in the center of the island, and another wave of familiarity overtook her. _Mt. Fulcan. As beautiful as ever._

" There's no fortress here." Alexia pointed out, " Just a lot of beach and sand. No building."

Veronica didn't reply. Instead, she held both arms out like she expected to be handcuffed. As the other Ashfords looked on, she shut her eyes, the dialect of an ancient incantation scrolling through her mind. Her hands began to glow with an supernatural light.

Out of instinct, the other Ashfords backed up, some more gracefully than others.

Ash stumbled over a small fern and nearly fell on his rear end. Luckily for him, all eyes were on Veronica.

Abruptly the sorceress turned her palms up and lifter her hands skyward.

The barren ground before them split open with a thunderous crack. The ground trembled. And an elegant stone castle sprang from the earth; taller and taller by the second, until it was at last full size. 

Lightning flashed the sky. A fierce icy wind blew up and cooled the whole area by the double-digits of degrees.

When Alexia gazed up it was to see thick, dark clouds spawning overhead, swirling in a mad vortex directly over the newly formed castle. Outward and outward they expanded, stretching from horizon to horizon, blotting out the sun and inking the world into an ominous gray twilight.

Claps of thunder exploded every few seconds, lending voice to the white and blue bolts of lightning webbing across the sky in random flashes of brilliance. Rain poured down in torrents.

A strange creature howled from somewhere in the distance, probably near the center of the island.

" Wow, that's a nice castle." Alfred marveled.

It was not an exaggeration.

Easily the size of any one of the England castles or palaces, the gray-stoned structure looked like something straight out of a story book with fancy black shingles, scary towers, and stone gargoyle dragons populating the all the corners and edges in evil, all-seeing poses. Encircling the entire complex--which easily took up a football field on it's own--was a sturdy, black metal fence ten feet high and with pointed tips ending in razors.

No way your average Joe would be scaling _that_ anytime this millennia.

Veronica awarded Alexia an evil smirk. " As you were saying my dear? "

" I must concede that I found that most ostentatious." Alexia was forced to admit. Much as she hated Veronica, even she had to acknowledge quality when she saw it.

" Welcome to Castle Ashford rebuilt! " Veronica cackled, cuing several bolts of lightning to flash overhead in sync with her remark.

_Showoff_. Alfred thought.

Sultan jumped at all the noise. Alexandra had to work very hard to hold him now…he was one scared kitty cat.

" Cool! We get to go in _there_? " Ash gaped, excited by the prospect.

The red-headed sorceress rolled her eyes. " No, my plan was to stand out here all day and make dumb blonde jokes. Come on you twits, let's go. We have much to prepare for."

" Such as…" Alfred started.

" War." Veronica purred, swaying slightly like a drunkard.

" War? With Discord? "

Veronica nodded. " Last time I was not prepared. This time she's not going to catch me on my rump supping tea."

************************************************************************

Chris awoke to the symphony of rainwater dripping from leaves, running off tree limbs, and at last coming to sloppy, wet splashes in various puddles on the soft, moist earth.

He opened his eyes--impossible to tell how long he'd been out--and found himself staring straight up into the leafy canopies of tropical island trees. Overhead, the storm rumbled on with just as much force as ever before.

_Huh? Where am I? How the hell did I get here?! And **where** are the others? _Moaning in slight discomfort at the pain in his head, he managed to stagger to his feet and scan the terrain.

Jungle. He was in a jungle. It was so dark he could barely see. Plants surrounded him in abundance on all, sides, every kind of tropical fern, grass, and flower imaginable in an array of dulled colors punished by the dim light. Though he had no way of telling for sure, the logical assumption was that he was still on Majika Island.

Perfect, just perfect. A freak storm--just the kind of vacation he'd never fantasized. _Something weird is going on here. Alexis was right, we have to regroup and get off this crazy island._

Chris took one step forward. Stopped. 

Which way to go?

It was impossible to tell. One direction looked the same as another. With his luck, he'd wind up wandering in circles for hours, and…well…that would just not do. He had to find the others and quickly.

Or at least some shelter. Though the canopy of leaves and vines protected him from a good portion of the onslaught, he was still pretty wet and getting very cold very fast.

Shelter was starting to sound pretty good right now, especially with the darkening sky. If it got much darker he wouldn't be able to see anyway, being as how he didn't have a flashlight handy. There were a few back at the jet--never leave for a camping trip without one--but where was the jet?

Chris shivered. The thought of wandering about lost in an island jungle at night during a freak storm and with the owner of that strange inhuman cry lurking about was a very scary concept. He could run into a jaguar, python, wild boar, or anything out here. 

Granted, he had been through much worse--and lived to tell about it--but a ravenous jaguar could kill him just as easily as one of those ugly-as-sin 'hunters' could. 

The rest of his team were not idiots. Wherever they were, they'd be weathering the storm. Not even Alan would be foolish enough to be running about in all this. Besides, despite the unusual weather, this was just a regular island. There wouldn't be any zombies or other hideous mutations here. No evil companies. Even his luck couldn't be that bad. Could it?

As if in reply, a sudden rustle in the fronds to his left snared his attention. Straining his eyes, he could just make out some overly large ferns moving not twenty feet away.

_That is not a good sign_…His mind turned the possibilities: snake, monkey, bird, _jaguar_.

Slowly, so as not to startle whatever it was into attacking, Chris reached into his pocket. _And for defense I have…a can of Powerbait. _He could have slapped himself. Of course! This was supposed to be a relaxing vacation, not a raid on an Umbrella facility. Luckily, he always kept he always kept a combat knife in a specially designed sheath on the inside of his right boot, but the action of retrieving it would mean time bent over and vulnerable. Plus, he was still hoping to avoid confrontation.

Chris was scared. Not facing-down-Wesker-with-only-a-pocket-knife scared, but even with his years of experience thrashing zombies and surviving the attacks of Umbrella and it's competitors' various super-powered beasts, the odds of him going one-on-one with a jaguar with only a combat knife and coming out in a good light were not very high unless he happened to get extremely lucky.

As a rule, luck did not usually tend to favor him.

Keeping both eyes glued to the suspicious plants, he backed away slowly, thankful for the noise of the storm to cover his footsteps.

Maybe the thing hadn't noticed him.

Maybe his luck was changing.

Or not.

The back heel of his boot caught on a thick overgrown tree root half submerged in the ground and he went down hard on his behind.

The fronds he'd been watching swayed violently. Two glowing red orbs the size of soccer balls and of an unnatural brilliance floated above the ground. A sudden flash of lightning illuminated the face of some enormous creature sporting two thin white things easily as long as Chris was tall.

It took the S.T.A.R.S. captain all of half a second to figure out that these were teeth, and that he was in big, _big_, trouble.

When Chris jumped up right then he most certainly must have set a new world record for the fastest time a person could leap up, turn around, and run.

Out of the corner of his eye he caught just the faintest glimpse of the thing lunging. He hadn't gotten a good look at the thing. It was too dark and there were too many plants hiding it. However, of the brief glimpse he had seen, there was something not quite right about it; a certain weirdness to the shape of what must have been the head, but he wasn't going to stop and see exactly what that was.

On and on he ran, leaping all the fallen logs, sticks, and bushes in his path that threatened to bring him down.

The thing thundered on behind him, snapping trees like twigs and shaking the earth with it's footfalls.

Chris didn't know what it was. All he knew was that it was not a jaguar. _Definitely _not a jaguar.

************************************************************************

Jill trotted her way alongside a river. A river she had just happened to wake up near. All by her lonesome. Beyond weird that she had blacked out after the flash and woken up in a place totally unfamiliar.

Her only thought now was to find the others, had to get to the beach where the lack of foliage and trees would make tracking easier.

__

My god, I hope the children are alright. Her maternal instinct kicked in full throttle, making her a nervous wreck with worry for their safety.

The adults could handle themselves, but Seth was barely five and Crystal younger still. If they were alone it would be all too easy for them to get hurt, even killed. Kids that size would be easy prey for a predator such as a python or big cat…though it was highly unlikely a big cat would be on a remote island--they were usually found in the rainforests of South America--it _was_ a possibility. She had heard of people illegally dropping off their exotic pets off on atolls when circumstances didn't allow them to keep them anymore.

Even if there were no dangerous predators around, there were still other hazards…what if they had fallen into the river?

Jill's eyes swept over the raging current like nervous radar. It was practically all white water. The powerful rapids were dashing chunks of wood against the jutting rocks with enough force to render them in splinters.

There was no doubt about it, if her kids had fallen into _that _raging hell, they were dead. Period.

The rain came down in sheets, plastering her red-brown hair to the sides of her head in uncomfortable wet clumps. Her clothes were soaked. She was already chilled to the bone and still the cruel kept blowing in her face, driving the water into her eyes and face like angry needles. Every progressing step she took was more uncomfortable than the last. 

Still, she kept on doggedly. 

Either side of the river was flanked by a jungle of green leaves and plant life. Jill kept imagining she saw eyes peering out at her. _Just keep following the river_. She told herself, electing to watch it's flow rather than think about what nasties might be lurking in the bush. 

They say when you concentrate on one thing too long your eyes can play tricks on you. Focusing so hard on the river, Jill was repeatedly haunted by the images of one of her children flailing about helplessly in the water, being smashed time and again against the wicked rocks…_no, mustn't focus on the negative. The kids are fine. They did **not** fall into the river._

She tried to think more positively. The kids were safe and with the adults weathering out the storm. Hopefully they were at least with Chris or Alan. Though she trusted everyone in the unit, her husband and nephew were the strongest and most well equipped to protect them. As an added bonus, Alan had excellent night vision. If they _were_ all alone he had the best chance of finding them.

_No, not alone…_

However, just thinking that did not make it so. 

_Squish! _Jill's left foot sank up to the ankle in a patch of particularly mucky mud. Muttering curses, she managed to pull it free, but not without a big gooey glob of mud twice the size of her foot itself hitching a ride.

Jill was freezing. She was wearing sandals and dressed for a very warm day. The temperature felt like it was in the forties now, and, thankfully, staying constant. Except fro the wind-chill factor. Every inch of her exposed flesh stung with the cold_. If I don't find them soon, I'll freeze to death._

But against all logic, she was going to stay out until she found her kids. How could she think of herself in a time like this? Her babies might need her.

And so, with a single driving force behind her thoughts, she pressed on.


	7. Safe

_ **Disclaimer: **I think it hardly needs said, but I **Do NOT **own the lyrics or any copyright whatsoever to the song I mention this chapter. No infringement is intended...blah blah blah, don't sue I have no money. _

Chapter 7

Claire awoke to the most unpleasant feel of something slimy brushing across the skin of her arm. She jumped up with a start, recoiling at the sight of a green snake whipping past her on the ground, startled for cover.

She made a face. " Ugh, where have we..." She stopped in the middle of her sentence when she realized that she was alone. Gigantic leaves flanked her on all sides, wet and uncomfortable. The sky roared violently, dropping rain by the bucketfuls. Some of this water splashed her on the face, and she shivered.

" Where am I? " Claire brought herself to her feet and shot through the top of her leafy nest. What awaited was not a welcome sight.

Darkness. Almost complete darkness. What little she could see was just a lot of plants and foliage. Trees were everywhere. She was greeted by the frightened chatter of a monkey from someplace high up.

She didn't blame the poor thing. Freak storms were never a good thing, especially when they cast you clear out in the middle of the jungle in the darkness and wetness with no idea where you were, where your friends and family were, or how to get back.

" Chris? Steve? Anybody here? " She called loudly.

Her only reply was the crack of thunder.

_Well, this couldn't get much worse. _She stepped out of the ferns and into a slightly less plant-populated space near a tree with an unusually thick trunk. Her mind buzzed with questions. _Where could they be? What happened? And I don't suppose anyone nearby has a nice dry shelter along with a change of clothes? _

She was one miserable Burnside. Wet, cold, lost, and frightened.

_Ok, _logic pointed out, _Maybe that lightening was just some weird phenomenon that blew us all to different parts of the island. That means the others must be here somewhere...probably not too far away, being this isn't exactly Greenland. They're probably out there looking for me. All I have to do is find them._

However, just as she was deciding which way to go, a horrible howl pierced the air, quickly followed by several others. Each haunting melody was progressively louder, progressively _closer_.

That decided her. Her plans having absolutely nothing to do with running head-on with the makers of strange howls in a jungle on a spooky island during a freak storm, she opted to head the opposite direction of the noises. 

It seemed like the right thing to do at the time. Really, it did.

************************************************************************

Crystal was scared. And confused. One moment she had been by her mommy, getting ready to go somewhere. The next she was out all alone in the open with the rain beating down on her and the scary noises in the sky--the ones that made her shake and quiver.

She had called out for her mommy and daddy, even Auntie Alexis, but they hadn't come. Her cries and screams had gone unheard; lost to the rage of the storm. 

Sopping wet, she had managed to find a tiny bit of shelter under the slope of a large rock. It wasn't full protection, but it shielded her from the worst of it. There she cried and cried for a good hour until her throat dried up and she became too exhausted.

It just didn't make sense. Where was Mommy? Why wasn't she coming to her? Why had everybody left her?

Of course, at such a young age such concepts as teleportation and accidental separation caused from thereof were lost on her. She didn't know the circumstances. She would not be able to understand them even if she did.

All she knew was that she was alone, cold, and scared.

And nobody was coming to help her.

It was so cold...her little fingers went numb and turned the same rosy pink color as her nose and toes. Her eyes clenched shut, her breathing slowed to conserve on energy.

" Aw, you poor thing." The new voice snapped her awake. When she opened her eyes again, it was to see a strange adult standing before her, one of which she had never seen before. He appeared to be a little smaller than her dad and had slicked-back deep chocolate-brown hair and friendly eyes.

This stranger kneeled in front of her and extended hi hand. " You shouldn't be out here all alone. Where are your parents? "

Crystal gave him a quizzical look, and for a moment the newcomer was afraid she didn't understand his question.

The little Redfield hung her head low. " I don't know." She sobbed, her voice a raw whisper. The exposure to the elements was really starting to take it's toll. She grabbed the stranger's hand. He wasn't her mommy--or anyone else she knew, for that matter--but he was the only thing she had.

" You're as cold as ice! " The man scooped her up into his arms, his tone a very concerned one, " I'd better get you someplace warm before you turn into a popsicle."

" Mommy? " Crystal asked weakly, limp in her rescuer's arms.

There was a loud crash, and the stranger looked around nervously. " I'm afraid not...but I promise we can look for her later.

************************************************************************

Seth wandered along the edge of the jungle, not quite going into the trees, but wary of them just the same. It was scary to think of what might be lurking in there--just out of sight--waiting to leap out and snatch an unwary little boy such as himself. After all, weren't there always monsters in jungles? He'd seen it all the time on TV. Giant snakes and killer spiders…the jungle was a very dangerous place!

He shivered miserably in the cold. It didn't help matters any that he was sopping wet wearing only a T-shirt with shorts and sandals. What he needed about now was a nice warm sweater with a heavy coat, rain boots, and pants.

Upon waking to find himself alone in a terrible thunderstorm, he'd set out to find the others, calling all their names over and over again. It was dangerous to be all alone. Even more so when he didn't have a warm and dry place to stay and it was starting to get dark out. Already the light was reduced to a deep gray twilight.

Above the treetops, the storm seemed to be subsiding some.

_The storm's not so bad,_ he decided, _all it does is make rain and loud noises. But it's getting dark and I'm so cold. I have to find someplace dry. And warm would be nice too. _ Once that was accomplished, he could wait out the squall and look for his family as soon as it was light again. It seemed like a good plan. But, like nearly all good plans, it carried with it a certain little nagging worm of worry.

Spending the night all alone outside near a jungle was a very frightening concept. Seth didn't even like spending the night alone in his own room, and that was in the safety of the house. Regardless of what the adults said about monsters not existing in your closet or under your bed, you just never knew. _Of course they'd think that, that's what the monsters want them to think._

And surely monsters must be real; he had heard his parents talk about them at night sometimes when they had thought him asleep. 

Gorilla-like monsters that had big claws and sickly green skin. Dogs that weren't really dogs. Diseased people with rotted skin who ate the flesh of other people. And worst of them all: a terrifying behemoth monster with tentacles and a grotesquely disfigured face his mother had called '_Nemesis'_. Of all these creatures, it was this last that he feared the most.

Wouldn't it be horrible to meet something like that! 

He was jarred from his thoughts by a low growl from uncomfortably close behind. _Gulp_. He dared to turn around.

And came face to face with a creature from his nightmares.

Mostly, it looked like a large gray wolf on steroids. But this was no wolf. The deformed muzzle was way too wide and bore way too many knifelike teeth. A big black nose twitched vigorously on the end of the whiskered snout. Each evil eye was nothing more than a blazing red ball of fury devoid of pupils altogether.

_Red eyes, red like a demon's_. Seth thought, recalling every horror movie he'd ever sneaked up to watch. 

The rest of the animal's body was very bulked-up and covered in course gray fur with an extra long and beautiful bushy tail.

Indeed, the beast before him had much in common with a wolf. 

But this was a creature that could eat wolves for breakfast.

Seth backed up a step, terrified. The nightmare monster was so much bigger than him, and those teeth were so sharp. _It's going to eat me! It's going to kill me right here right now and I'll never get to see my mommy and daddy or anyone else ever again! _Afraid to turn his back on the creature, he kept backing up--one step at a time--putting as much distance as possible between him and the object of his fear.

The big wolf-like thing crouched lower to the ground, teeth bared and dripping with saliva. It flexed retractable sickle-shaped claws each as long as an adult's finger into and out of the dirt.

Seth swallowed nervously. Those claws looked as sharp as razors. 

Uttering a deep, guttural growl, the wolf-demon--for that was the mental name Seth had given it--charged!

It was very fortunate for the young Redfield that Alexis arrived when she did. Upon seeing her little friend in danger, she threw a rock and hit the wolf-demon in the shoulder.

" Hey! Hey over here! " She waved her arms about wildly in the air, doing all she could to draw the beast's attention away from the child.

The wolf-demon stopped, turned it's murderous sights on her, and snarled. It appeared to be very annoyed.

" That's right wolfie, why go for the appetizer when you can have the main course? " Not that the beast would understand anyway, but she felt strangely braver saying those words. 

At first, the ploy seemed to work. The wolf-demon started towards her.

" Seth! Quick! run! " Alexis threw another rock to keep the thing busy.

It missed. 

The wolf-demon had other ideas. It whipped it's head back in Seth's direction and let out ear-piercing howl. The very same howl everyone had heard right before the lightning flash that sent them all to different parts of the island. 

Alexis winced. Now she knew what it was. _Why do I have the feeling that's not going to help our situation?_

Her suspicions were well justified, as moments later a second wolf-demon--this one with black fur and bigger than the first--burst from the thick jungle foliage to close in on Seth.

Satisfied that it's pack-mate would take care of the little one, the original wolf-demon turned back on Alexis.

_Okay, that was not what I had planned._ Alexis had good reason to be worried. In addition to being without weapons, she was dressed in light clothes that would offer no real protection against teeth. Not only that, but there was a fat chance she was going to be able to outrun a wolf. _Even if I could…I can't just abandon Seth! _

Thinking quickly, she bent down and rose with a stick. It was a poor replacement for a gun--or even the lowly combat knife for that matter--but it was all she had and it was just going to have to do. _What am I thinking? Me with a stick against a pair of wolf-monsters? I've gotta be insane!_ Improvising sure sucked. 

" Alexis, what do we do now? " Seth quivered, voice quaking.

He never received the answer.

The wolf-demons charged!

Seth screamed. It was all a flash, a blur of movement. Black against black. There was a sharp _'yelp!' _and quick as that it was Alan standing in front of him and not the wolf-demon.

Without a word, he scooped the kid up with one hand and shot off to help Alexis, who was by now in an even worse predicament.

Her wolf-demon had already pinned her to the ground and broken her stick in it's powerful jaws. Instinctively she brought up her arm to protect her face, and the thing bit in, growling like something possessed. 

The creature's victory was short-lived. Alan rammed it's side like a freight train, sending the abomination flying into a large volcanic rock.

" I'm so glad you're here! " Alexis breathed, greatly relieved by Alan's most-likely-life-saving appearance. 

" Of course. Didn't think I would stand around twiddling my thumbs while you and Seth were made into Kibbles and Bits, did you? "

The big black wolf-demon was not happy. It regained it's feet, furious about being cheated of it's prey. 

Alan sat Seth down and helped Alexis up, keeping an eye also on the other wolf-demon he'd flung into the volcanic rock, that one that even now was getting up.

" Ah, coming back to play now are we? " Alan taunted, " Well, if you're that hot on committing Hari-Kari, here I am! " He spread his arms wide, daring the monsters to challenge him.

The black wolf-demon was the first to charge: red eyes blazing, jaws gaping, and spittle flying off ivory teeth. Only milliseconds behind it was the gray wolf-demon, mimicking the image of it's pack-mate but with a more defined wild fury. Both went for Alan. 

Perhaps they knew that he was the biggest threat. 

Or perhaps they just didn't appreciate him crashing their meal.

Whatever the case, Alan braced himself, and once the black wolf-demon was within range he struck it a powerful blow to the nose with the bottom of his boot. A blow which displaced tissue and drove bone fragment straight through it's brain. That was it for Black Wolfie: he dropped where he stood like a sack of bricks, never to rise again.

If Gray Wolfie had any advantage at all it was that Alan had had to turn his back to it in order to deal with it's pack-mate. 

" Alan, watch out! " Alexis warned as the enraged wolf-demon flew at him, landing on his back and laying it open with those incredibly sharp cat's claws.

" Hey! " Alan yelped. He'd momentarily forgotten about that one. Steak-knife teeth found their way to his shoulder, cutting in deeply and spilling blood.

Instinctively, he reached behind his back and fumbled blindly until his hand found the thing's fluffy tail. _Bingo. _One vicious yank and Gray Wolfie was sent flying.

" Yiiiiiiiiaaaaarrrp!? " He/she/it complained as he/she/it collided back-first with a tree.

" Stupid mutt," Alan grumbled, " that hurt." Before the wolf-demon could regain it's footing, he zipped over and snapped it's neck. It went limp instantly in his arms; the driving red life force dulling in it's eyes until a blank black stare was all that remained. 

Anxious, Alan turned back to his friends. " Is everyone okay? "

Seth nodded. " I'm fine. But Alexis…" Alan followed his eyes to Alexis's left arm, which was dripping red with blood. 

Alexis winced at the painful bite marks. Six on one side of her arm, and just as many on the other, the punctures varied in width, depth, and severity. Some were mere grazes against the skin where the tooth had missed doing any real damage. Others were deeper. The largest was about the size of a dime, and it was this that was leaking the most blood. Rivers of crimson ran together and colored her whole arm, making the damage look twice as bad as it actually was.

And it hurt. Boy did it hurt.

Alexis held the injured arm close to her body, applying pressure to slow the bleeding.

Alan was there in a flash, examining the damage. " You're hurt." His words carried a genuine worry. He hated to see people he loved in pain.

Alexis forced a dry laugh. " You too." During the battle she hadn't really gotten that good a look at his face. Now she noticed that his shades were absent, and that his eyes were--at least for the moment--blue-green.

Alan shrugged. " It'll heal. But your arm…it looks terrible." He turned to the slain wolf-monsters. " What _are_ those things? "

" They're wolf-demons." Seth piped up, his small voice barely audible over the now-increasing howl of the wind, " On TV there was…" Not for the first time in his young life, Seth was cut off by an adult.

" We'd better find shelter." Alan stated. The storm was kicking back into full swing and now it was so dark Seth an Alexis could barely see.

All three friends were wet, cold, and generally unhappy campers.

Alexis tilted her head to the left, towards a large lava-ridge she'd passed by only minutes ago. " Over there." She said through the rain, " I thought I saw the opening to a dry cave before Seth was in danger."

Alan nodded. " Sounds good." His expression was grim--he wasn't in the happiest of moods. Already Alexis was hurt, weird new monsters were on the prowl, the storm seemed to be taunting them with it's longevity, and he still did not know the fate of the others. He felt of wave of helplessness wash over him; a feeling he did not get often and of which he was not fond.

The first thing he had done upon waking up alone and in a strange area had been to try and find the others. But his enhanced senses were lost in the storm. It was too simply too loud, too chaotic, and it murdered all hopes of tracking. Though his vision was unhindered, he'd had to remove his shades and slip them in his pocket as the lenses kept filling up with raindrops and had to be wiped frequently. A real hassle.

On the bright side, at least he had found Alexis and Seth, and just in the nick of time too.

_If I had only been a second later..._It was a scary thought. Seth most certainly would have been dead, maybe Alexis too. _This little outing must be cursed. Or maybe it's just us._

" This way." Alexis led the way alongside the bluff where a small opening was visible just beneath a jutting lava-rock protrusion. Of course, the whole ridge was made of the same ashen-red lava-rock. Eons ago this had been the spot where flows of lava from the used-to-be-more-active Mt. Fulcan had halted. With each flow the ridge had thickened, becoming the breathtaking structure it was today.

" Have a look."

Alan peered in first, changing his eyes to their red and gold image as he did. The inside of the cave was a rectangle a good thirty feet long and half as wide. The first thing that became evident to him--after the fact that there was no living creature inside--was that the cave had had inhabitants at some point. _Human _inhabitants. In the center of the unnaturally smoothed-out rock floor was a depressed bowl-shaped blackened area littered with charred pieces of wood. When he looked just above the fire-pit, he could see a reasonably-sized hole put in the ceiling for the purpose of a smoke-escape. This "chimney" was protected from the rain by a wooden structure outside and on the top of the ridge. The engineering was perfect to insure that the smoke would go up through the hole and not smoke everyone out of house and home. To the farthest back corner lay a huge pile of dry leaves and brush someone had stored for fire-keeping. To the other corner lay the bleached bone and decayed remains of some animal; from the looks of it a deer or equivalently-sized mammal. _And over to the side-wall...blankets!_

Yes, blankets! Just what they needed. They were all beaded and consisted of wool and materials dyed now-faded shades of reds and blues--suggesting their crafters to be natives--but oh they were such a welcome sight!

" Alexis, Seth, there's blankets! We've stumbled across someone's little hidey-hole! Let's go in."

Alexis was only a little hesitant. " Are you sure? What if the owners come back? " 

" I'm sure they will understand." Alan ducked his head low and barely managed to squeeze under the small opening. One thing was for sure: whoever used this cave wasn't very big. It was hard to imagine someone like Barry as being able to squeeze through.

Inside, though cold, was nice and dry.

" Suppose the owners aren't friendly? " Alexis offered, but she'd already made up her mind that it was well worth the risk. She nudged Seth in front of her. " Go on."

" Not friendly? " Alan laughed, " Believe me when I say I don't think we'll have any trouble. From the looks of things this place has been abandoned for awhile now. Of course I could be wrong, but if any savages show up they'll wish they hadn't."

Once Seth was in, Alexis ducked to enter. " I hope the people around here are friendly for a change. We seem to have the worst of luck with people wanting us dead."

" I can't see! " Seth cried. The inside of the cave was pitch black, and he always had been a little afraid of the dark. It barely mattered that Alexis and Alan were right there with him; dark places were just spooky.

" I'm going to make a fire with the dry wood stored in here." Alan verified, his eyes glowing like embers in a fire. Indeed, his eyes were all either of his friends could see of him at the moment.

Outside the rain turned into hail as big as walnuts, pelting the ground mercilessly.

" It's a good thing we found this place when we did." Alexis remarked, glancing back out at the weather and thinking how horrible it would have been to be caught out in _that_ onslaught.

Seth crouched close to her, not daring to stray too far. " Do you think the others are okay? " He asked.

Alexis turned to face him, trying to mask the worry she felt. It would do no good to get the kid all upset by admitting the truth: that she didn't know. " I'm sure they all found dry places too. We have to wait out this storm--it'd be ludicrous to try and do anything else."

At the farthest corner of the cave, Alan was already gathering the smallest of the brush pile to use as kindling. Fortunate that it was so dry and frail--the perfect fire-starter. He mounted a heap of it in the remains of the first fire, carefully replacing some of the dislodged stones around the lip of the pit to form a barrier. Withdrawing a lighter from his pocket, he set the first stick ablaze and watched in delight as the rest caught on and the fire spread quickly. He went back for more wood.

" Come on, fire's started."

Now the cave was dimly lit and Alexis and Seth could see the blankets he'd described.

" Blankies! " Seth rushed the pile, plowing straight into them and burying his face into the fabric. " Hey, there's pillows too! "

Four medium-sized feather-stuffed pillows made of animal hide lay next to the blankets, awaiting use. Alexis went over and picked one up, turning it about in her hands.

" Hey! Just what we need to beat the storm." Handing it to Seth, she picked up a blanket and stretched it out. It was quite large. More like a quilt, really. She gave her silent thanks to the cave's previous occupants for leaving it there.

Finished playing in the blankets, Seth raced over and warmed himself by the fire. _Ah...this feels so good. _He sat as close as he could without getting his face burned off. He was still soaked to the bone, but in time he would dry.

Alan sat next to him. " Hey little buddy."

Seth met his gaze, his warm brown eyes seeming to twinkle in the firelight. " Uncle Alan! You saved my life! "

Alan smiled and ruffled the child's hair a bit. " All in the line of duty."

It was then that Alexis approached, arms loaded with bedding. " All right boys. Let's make the beds."

This was met with a raised eyebrow from Alan. " You thinking of napping already? "

Alexis shrugged casually, tossing the largest of the blankets over the ground a reasonable distance from the fire. " You don't have to sleep if you don't want to. But I know that _I_ certainly don't feel like running the mile, so I thought it would be a great opportunity to rest up for the search. Besides, I didn't happen to find any decks of cards laying around."

" We could just talk." Seth suggested, happy beyond words to have found his two very favorite adults besides his parents. And now they were camping out, with a fire and everything! _This is so cool! _

Well sure, there had been the whole freak-deal with the wolf-demons, but there was nothing to worry about now that Uncle Alan was here.

After arranging the pillows, Alexis layered the other three blankets into one warm super-blanket. Returning to the fabric-pile, she found some unused fabric which she used to wrap her arm. The bleeding had slowed by now, but it was still pretty painful. _We're going to have to be extra careful around here...who says those killer wolf-things were the **only** monsters lurking around?_

The whole island wasn't safe. _And this was my ingenious idea. Great going, Alexis. _She couldn't help but to feel a little responsible for the whole situation. True enough that freak storms were unpredictable, and she certainly had had nothing to do with the teleportation or the vicious beasts roaming the island, but it was her fault they were there in the first place. _What was I thinking?_

Once she was through with her arm, she went over and dug into her newly-formed nest, sitting upright and halfway under the covers. 

" Sure you don't want to come lay with me? " When Seth looked her way she gave him puppy eyes.

That settled it. " Okay! " He sprang up and nearly tripped over Alan in his hurry.

" I see you have him wrapped around your finger." Alan mused, thinking it all very cute.

Seth dove under the covers and nestled into Alexis's side just as readily as he would his own mother. " I love you." He blurted, unsure what it was that was making him so emotional all of a sudden. He wasn't normally the mushy type.

Alexis rewarded him with a warm smile. " I love you too." She put her arm around him in an affectionate snuggle.

" Okay. We all love each other tonight." Alan laughed gently. He had always had a bit of a problem with saying those three tiny words. But he really did love his cousin and girlfriend. He would die for them. He wondered if they knew. " How's your arm? " He asked Alexis.

Alexis took once glance down at her arm--which was bleeding just slightly through the fabric in places--and made a face. " It hurts, but I'll live. Unless I...you know, mutate. But I don't feel any different right now."

Alan moved in closer, taking his place on the other side of Seth. " I didn't smell a virus on those creatures. It was weird. Normally freaks of nature like that reek of T or G virus, or at least _some_ kind of experimental virus. But these ones smelled...normal. Sure, they had their own unique scent unlike any I'm _used_ to coming across, but I didn't detect any viruses. Genetic tampering, I think. Though how they managed to twist the DNA of a wolf like _that_ remains to be seen."

" There's also the annoying little matter of how they got on the island in the first place." Alexis pointed out, " Last I checked this area was uninhabited. We didn't see any buildings from the air, either."

" Not through trees, no. But it could be that this whole are is just a dumping place for unwanted or failed experiments." Alan played with the fringed edge of a blanket, running his finger back and forth over the rough edge and some of the trim before out and out rubbing it like some kind of good luck charm. It was a habit he'd had ever since he was a little boy. Strange how some habits stayed the same throughout a lifetime. He hadn't even consciously thought about it, but in his subconscious mind he associated the action with security, calmness.

Seth, now much warmer and a little bit cozy to boot, lay all the way down and Alexis joined him. 

Beyond them, the fire crackled and danced, sharing it's heat and casting flickering shadows across the walls.

Alan looked deep into the flame, the blazing array of deep yellows, oranges, reds, and whites stirring some primal instinct from deep within him.

Alexis watched his steely gaze and her curiosity got the best of her. " Lost in thought? "

He shook his head. " Naw. Just...my father and I used to do this sometimes."

" What, hide out in caves with a fire while you waited out a storm? " She couldn't resist having a little fun with that comment.

Alan gave her a lopsided grin. " Not exactly. We used to build fires and have little 'talks'. Mostly about how I needed to bring my science grade up, but there were moments..." He shut his eyes, remembering gentler times.

Alexis laughed. " You are talking about Wesker, right? "

Alan's eyes snapped open. He gave Alexis an odd look, as if he could not quite comprehend her question. " Of course. I only have one father. And hard as this may be to believe, he wasn't always about the revenge, and the hate, and the painful deaths. He used to be more...human." He couldn't think of a better way to word it_. Could that be part of the price of the T-2? Losing your humanity?_

Alexis was thoughtful. " Maybe...maybe the virus made him more cruel? "

Alan shook his head, though he was not dismissing the idea entirely. " I don't know. I have the same virus, and I still care enough not to go around murdering everyone who gets in my way. My dad he...he stopped caring about a lot of things over the years. I think Spade and I are the only ones he cares about at all anymore. It's sad."

" It is." Alexis agreed, " But at least he still cares about _something_. Tell me...did you meet any of your other family on his side? Grandparents, cousins, _anything_? "

Alan sighed, putting his arms behind his head and leaning back, watching the firelight play off the ceiling and listening to the fury of the storm. " My dad's family? Let's see...Dad was pretty much an only child. He had a younger brother who died in a fire when they were both very young. That was my uncle Joseph. Lived to be a whopping two years old. As for my grandfather...all I know about him was that his name was Wren and he died in a railroad accident when my father was only nine years old."

" That's sad." Alexis was imagining a young Albert Wesker with his father and only sibling dead. It must have been hard on the poor guy, losing two of his family like that and at such a young age. _Maybe it's part of the reason he's so messed up now._ " What about your grandmother? "

" Grandma? Her name was Roberta, but everyone called her 'Birdie'. She raised my dad all by herself after Gramps died. I actually met her a few times. She was nice, but she always struck me as sort of strange. You know, like maybe she was a few Cokes short of a six-pack? Don't know if she was always that way or if it had something to do with my Grandfather and uncles' deaths, but...yeah, she was definitely a bit of a fruitcake."

Alexis nodded understandingly. " Know the feeling. Well, not personally of course, but I think few would argue that my family doesn't have it's fair share of mental problems."

" I think that just about everybody has a looney in the mix somewhere." Alan went on, loving the way that he could talk so openly about just so many things with Alexis, " Anyway, getting slightly back on track here, Grandma Wesker died years ago. We have cousins out there somewhere. Mostly the Whitakers and the Millers. Only met a few. Never really got the chance to know them that well."

As he was talking, Seth shifted restlessly, tired but unable to sleep. " Alexis? "

" Yeah? " She petted his hair reassuringly. The poor little tyke had every reason to be scared and upset. Her heart went out to him. 

He nudged closer into her side. " Could you sing to me? Like you do when I stay the night? "

" Alright." She paused, trying to think of the right song. It would have to be something with a soft tune, something comforting. _Something **not** Berceuse. _Steve in particular became very upset whenever she sang that, and it did have a rather morbid theme. She had been told her mother had been quite fond of that song.

Seth fidgeted a bit. Something still wasn't right...he rolled over and then he knew. Seizing Alan's shirt, he proclaimed, " Get closer. I feel safer when you're closer." He tugged some more.

Alan was flattered. There was just something about being a little child's hero that couldn't be beat. It melted his heart.

" How's this? " He scooted closer, until his little cousin was practically sandwiched between him and Alexis.

" Perfect." Comfortable at last, Seth shut his eyes and snuggled into a comfy position while he awaited Alexis's song.

Alexis turned to Alan, her cheeks a light shade of red. " You...you wont mind, will you? Me singing? " She didn't know why she was suddenly so shy, she had sung around Alan a few times in the past and he had always told her she had a wonderful singing voice.

Alan shook his head. " Hearing you sing? Naw. Of course I wouldn't mind. You have a beautiful voice. I'd be crazy to mind." He settled down halfway in the blankets, keeping an eye out for danger but also allowing himself to relax a little.

Not that he was overly worried to start with. It was a safe wager that anything small enough to fit through the entrance hole he would be able to pulverize if need be. After years of fighting and killing mutants; cheating death time and time again, the idea of even the most savage of native islanders wielding spears and torches did little to terrify him. The only two people he really worried about weren't within a hundred miles of here, thank god.

Alexis cleared her throat and began to sing, her voice soft and melodious:

" _Listen children to a story_

That was written long ago

'Bout a kingdom on a mountain

And the valley folk below

On this mountain was a treasure

Buried deep beneath the stone

And the valley people swore

They'd have it for their very own...."

As she sang, she leaned over and nestled against Alan's shoulder.

Touched, he put an arm around her and hugged her nearer, being careful about his strength.

They looked very much like a family right then, with Alan and Alexis as the parents and Seth their child. It was in this setting, with the warmth of the fire to ward off the cold and tucked snugly between his two guardians, that Seth fell asleep.


	8. Danger Near, Danger Far

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A/N: _Okay, just a few quick notes before I get started this chapter. _

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#1, Nobody named the song last chapter, it was " One Tin Soldier " by the group called Peter, Paul, and Mary. ^^ I love that song! XD 

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#2: Last chapter just embarrassed me. Seriously. I couldn't get into the creative flow for beans, as I'm sure several of you noticed. I think my Fung-Shei ( spl? ) was wrong because when I moved my writing desk back to it's original spot, ( I had switched it's spot for that chapter ) I did **so** much better, as I hope this chapter will illustrate. ^^; I am much happier with this chapter .

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#3 This fic is most likely going to be longer than CA.. It has LOTS of plot and I've been planning this out ever since CA was in it's first few chapters. So don't worry if things don't just all start coming together at lightning speed. I'm writing both longer chapters and longer stories now, so the finished product will take some time. ( Took me 4 months for CA after all ). I have a lot of plans for this fic. And I do mean that. So hang in there and we'll do this story! =) 

Chapter 8

" Got any kings? " Wesker asked his daughter. He was sitting a few feet away from her on the same seat-bar at the back of the jet. Both Weskers held a fan of cards. And both were bored out of their minds.

In fact, the only reason they were playing anyway was because a wild storm had flared up an hour or so ago and forced them to land on a small island still a good twenty miles away from their destination. Listening to the radio had gotten old after a while, and there had been nothing else to do. Wesker would have preferred poker, but Spade absolutely detested the game. So it had been 'Go Fish'--the only card game other 'Memory' that Spade knew how to play. 

Cards never had been Wesker family's idea of real fun. It was just something to do when you were bored. Like now. 

" Go fish." Spade cheated. She was holding a king of clubs in her hand, but Wesker didn't need to know. It was a classic plan: wait a few more rounds, time enough to 'draw' the king from the drawpile, then ask for a king, which, obviously, Wesker would have. She thought she was being pretty sneaky.

Wesker studied Spade's facial expression. It was calm, but was that a twinge of worry in her eye?

As if sensing his scrutiny, Spade lowered her eyes and stared casually at her cards.

The charade didn't quite work, however. Over the years Wesker had gotten fairly good at sniffing out lies. He knew she was up to something.

" Are you sure? " He raised an eyebrow, letting Spade on to the fact that he was on to her.

Spade glanced up nervously from her cards. _What, does he have X-ray vision?! _For the moment, she was thankful he was wearing his shades and she could not see the fierce stare of his perpetual red-and-gold eyes. 

That almost never failed to give her a case of the jitters.

Sure, they were pretty---she had envied the unique eye-color of the T-2 carriers right from the moment she had first glimpsed Alan's--but her father's steely gaze made her nervous. There was something so cold about those eyes, so _evil_. At least when Alan looked at you you did not usually get the feeling he was going to lunge at your throat and rip you to shreds. 

" Am I sure? " She tried to sound calm. Really, she did. _Oh fudge, he's on to me!_

Her words betrayed her. Now Wesker was _sure_ she had the king. " Spade." He held out his hand, " King."

" Ah fudge." She dished out the requested card. " Do you have X-ray vision or something? " 

Just the faintest phases of a smile graced Wesker's lips. " No. But I know when you're lying. You have the same problem Alan does when you're being less-than-truthful." He chuckled a bit, " My own daughter would think to cheat me at a game of Go Fish. There's hope for you yet. You make me proud."

Spade's eyes lit up. " Really? "

Wesker nodded seriously. " Really. Not like your nit-wit brother, that's for sure."

Spade's smile evaporated. " Maybe, but at least _he_ has T-2 virus. When are you going to give me some? " It was a question that had been haunting her the past three months, ever since they'd escaped Africa. _Ever since...ever since Mom died._

What a horrible first few weeks _that _had been. Her mother had been everything to her. She had stood by her side when Wesker and Alan had went and gotten themselves lost for five years without so much as a phone call. Heck, without so much as a _postcard_. You know, just a little something to show they cared? She'd often asked her father about this lengthy absence from their lives, but somehow he always managed to skate around the question. His answers weren't quite satisfactory. 

In any case, the fact remained that her mother was dead, and now all that was left of her family was her father and brother, both of which were infected with the T-2 virus. Only she was not.

The only Wesker without super-powers.

Wesker frowned, shaking his head. " Spade, I can't give you the T-2 virus. Please don't ask again." His tone was firm and cold.

Spade threw her cards down, forfeiting the game. " But why? All I want is super-powers like you and Alan have. You can outrun cars, toss grown men around like ragdolls, jump really high, and your sight, hearing, and sense of smell are all amazing. Is it such a crime for me to want the same things too? I would give _anything_ to have that! You gave it to Alan. Why not me? I'd be more useful to you as a superhuman. "

" The price is too high." He hoped the argument would end there. Giving Spade his virus was not on his list of things to do.

" How can that be? All you have to do is give me some of your blood..."

" No! " Wesker roared, and there was so much anger in his voice that Spade shrank back, afraid she'd gone too far. " You are not getting the T-2 virus," he went on, his voice quieter now but still very commanding, " End of discussion. Alan got it because he would have died without it. But you...you don't need it. I don't need you to understand why. And I had better not hear another word about it. _Capish_? "

Spade nodded quickly, frightened. The whole time they'd lived together she had never seen her father so dead-set against something. He seldomly raised his voice around her.

" Sorry Daddy." If there was one thing she did not want to do, it was make him mad.

Without a word, Wesker turned and left his teenaged daughter to her cards. Making his way up to the pilot's seat, he dropped in it and sighed, lightly massaging his temple. 

Was this storm _ever_ going to let up? Outside, the wind and rain blew just as fiercely as ever before. His HCF contacts would be quite cranky if they knew he was being held up in the weather. Not that the idea of disappointing his superiors did much in the ways of terrifying him, but there were only so many times you could tell a person to fuck off before it got old.

He wished he could just fly on ahead: plow through that bothersome storm like it were nothing, but that was pure fantasy. No way the jet would hold up in such gale force. _But damn, it sure is boring **here**_.

There was nothing to do and Spade was the only company. Not really much he could talk about openly around her. And when he did talk, she would sit through his lectures, but she never really _listened_ to him the way Alan had. Also, Alan tended to voice his own opinion from time to time whereas Spade just agreed with everything he said.

Which was good enough in it's own right, but he knew Spade only said what she knew he wanted to hear. It didn't necessarily mean that that was the way she truly felt on any given issue. With Alan everything had always been right out in the open, and there was never much guesswork to be done about the way _he_ felt on a particular matter. 

There was no point in denying it: he missed arguing with his son.

Having someone who always agreed with everything you said may sound good on paper, but in truth he knew that it only meant that his daughter was too afraid of him to voice her own opinions. 

That was one aspect that separated his children: even before Alan had received the T-2 virus, he had never really feared him. Not only that, but Alan was a boy and there was just something different about a father-son relationship.

_Alan, why did you betray me? Was it those vile Redfield siblings that corrupted you, or a pretty girl? _Though he would sooner burn that admit it to anyone--even himself--Wesker kinda missed Alan. They had been through a lot together.

It was a crying shame Alan had decided to turn his back on his own blood and become a Redfield. _That's what he might as well be now...a Redfield. I hate him! If I see him again I swear I will kill him! _The thoughts seeped into his mind like poison and only served to enrage him all the more.

Furious, he gripped the material of his seat a little too tightly, ripping leather and fabric_. I swear to it Chris, you will pay dearly for what you have done! I will murder your precious little children first, then Jill, then Claire...and the whole time you will be watching, helpless to act. Then I'll tear their bodies to pieces and slaughter you slowly amidst their guts. And I will be sure to kill that Alexis...._

They'd all pay. They all deserved to die horribly. These people had just done so many things to piss him off. Namely always surviving when they shouldn't and against the most unfavorable of odds. Their luck so far had been miraculous.

But luck, like so many things, could not last forever.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Something told Steve to wake up. Maybe it was the premonition that something really bad was about to happen. Or maybe it was the drops of lava dripping through the stony crevices overhead.

Whatever the case, it was a good thing he woke up when he did.

" Huh? What the..." His first words when his eyelids fluttered open and he found himself slumped in a very awkward position against the hot wall of a dimly lit cave. Strangely enough, this cave had a few lit torches decorating the walls of the rocky passages, highlighting strange runes which almost seemed to glow with a supernatural light. The floor was sandy and dry. The ceiling was earthen and nondescript.

Except for the fact that it was leaking lava.

Rumble, rumble RUMBLE! The cave trembled and shook, the cracks in the ceiling expanded, releasing more of the insanely hot red liquid, scorching the sand where it hit with a loud hiss.

" Yi! Lava! I don't remember asking for this! " The fact that there was a throbbing pain in his head barely registered with him. Things like that tended not to when one was in a lava-cave which was getting hotter by the moment_. I have to get out of here! Might help if I actually knew where 'here' was, or which way is 'out'. _It would be the pits to get turned around in a place like this in a time like now.

The ground beneath him shook again, as if some sleeping giant deep below were having a nightmare.

He looked to his right to see a mad river of lava spilling towards him, chunks of the walls and ceiling crumbling in and giving way.

As if that were not bad enough, the lava flow was pouring down from the upward slope of the ground, meaning that not only was it going to be given an added boost in speed within the next five seconds, but also that it was most likely blocking the way out of these underground passages.

Now, nobody likes seeing a river of lava coming straight at them. And Steve was no exception. 

With an embarrassingly high-pitched scream that could rival Alfred's in sheer feminineness, he turned and ran deeper into the caves, thinking how futile it was to think that e was going to make it out of this alive_. It can only get worse the further in I go...lava dripping all around me, lava chasing me...there's probably a big pit of it waiting for me at the end of this passage too._

A chunk of rock broke free from overhead and nearly hit him. He barely escaped the ensuing lava that poured out immediately after the rock's displacement.

_It's so hot_...it was like racing through an oven! He choked on the gases and fumes dispelled from the bowls of the cave. It was becoming increasingly difficult to breath.

Further and further he ran, in too much of a hurry to notice that the glowing runes on the wall were getting oddly more and more familiar.

Dead end!

Steve came to a halt in front of solid rock. The tunnel simply ended at that point. A torch placed lovingly in the center in center of the barrier mocked him with the full sight that he was about to die.

_Damn!_

Though he had put a little bit of distance between him and nature's fury, he knew it would only be a matter of time before the river of death caught up with him and melted him into a pool of liquid cells. _There's gotta be another way! I can't die like this!_

Frantic, he spun around, eyes going ninety miles a minute; sweeping over every possible nook and cranny. Something red and oozing caught the corner of his eye, causing him to turn back to the dead end. Now there was something different about it.

Red stuff--looked a hell of a lot like blood--was seeping from bare stone, from solid rock! The wall itself was bleeding!

As Steve watched, panicked, the blood formed four chilling words: you will die soon.

By now he was completely and utterly terrified, past ten on the Richter scale. When he turned back around, it was to see the lava coming for him, only a hundred yards away and molten hot.

He shut his eyes tightly, hoping that it was all just a bad dream, that this wasn't actually happening.

Nevertheless, the bone-chilling words on the wall ran through his mind--_you will die soon._

Yeah, it certainly looks that way, doesn't it?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chris wasn't sure how long he'd been running before he finally noticed that the thing chasing him was no longer following. Doubling over in a clearing just out of the thick expanse of trees one would define as 'jungle', he paused to catch his breath_. Ok, I don't even want to know what that was. _ His mind was just not ready to process that at the moment.

The chase had been close...several times that crashing had been so loud he was sure the thing was almost on top of him. Was sure any moment would be his last. Yet here he was--safe. At least for the moment.

The island seemed oddly quite, save the usual noises of the storm. Even so, the thunder wasn't quite as loud now, and the lightning flashed less and less. However, that didn't mean the rain wasn't still up and kicking. Bucketfuls of it drenched Chris.

In fact, he wasn't much drier than if he'd jumped into a lake. He was also tired. And he couldn't see a blasted thing beyond twenty feet in front of his face. 

The darkness seemed enveloping.

Lifting his head up, he looked around and noted that he had reached the beach. 

Make it _a_ beach. This was an area he was not familiar with. It certainly didn't much resemble the area they had camped out at.

He went out further, until he could just make out the silvery-white foam of the raging surf. Once, twice, he blinked. Something was out there. Something big--like part of a ship--and mostly white. It lay almost motionless along the beach, waves pounding it mercilessly, washing more debris ashore.

_What could that be?_

Curiosity getting the better of him, he darted over to discover a rather large piece of mangled wood and metal that had clearly once been part of a ship. _And it looks new too. This isn't Captain Jack Sparrow's ship._

A thought presented itself: given it's intensity and the supernatural speed with which the storm had appeared, it was very likely that an innocent boat had smashed against the island. 

And if that was the case, there would most likely be survivors.

His anxious eyes swept the beach, scanning for signs of life. Not that he could see much in the dark.

That's when it happened; a low, guttural moan that the S.T.A.R.S. captain was all too familiar with, " Uhhhhhhh....."

Chris turned, prepared to fight.

" Unnnghh." A zombie stood right in front of him, a wet, torn mess of ragged clothes and rotting skin. Dressed in street garb, the unfortunate zombie may once have been a twenty-something year old young man. He may once have been handsome.

Now he was anything but.

" Unnggh." The zombie greeted, shuffling towards Chris. It was no more than fifteen feet away.

Chris backed up, not wanting to get within it's range, but on the whole he wasn't really all that worried.

Mr. Zombie was all alone. Outrunning him would be an easy matter.

However, the appearance of a zombie on the island caused Chris's thoughts to take a turn for the morbid. **_Zombies?! _**There's zombies here now? Damn.

Seemed like the S.T.A.R.S. couldn't go on one trip without running into legions of the undead_. Heheh, whereas most people would be screaming their guts out about now, I'm like; oh boy, another zombie. Like it's not even a big deal. My god, what are times coming to?_

Mr. Zombie ambled closer, arms outstretched and reaching for what it hoped would be it's next meal. It's mouth watered at the thought ( thought? ), drool and blood cascading down it's face in a sickening dribble.

Then....

_Bambambambam! _The walking corpse dropped over like a felled tree, the sides and back of it's head obliterated in a mess of congealed blood and tissue.

A young man with dark brown hair stood a ways off, each outstretched hand brandishing a smoking uzi. A little girl stood by his side, terrified. Chris recognized her at once.

" Crystal! Hey, that's my daughter! " He ran towards the pair, relieved beyond words that his little girl was okay.

The stranger awarded him a smile. " She's yours then? Found her all lost and alone near the woods. " He lowered the uzis and handed one to Chris. " Here. I think you need this more than I do."

The S.T.A.R.S. captain accepted the weapon readily. " Thank you! " Once it was in his hands he spared a moment to check it over. It was almost fully loaded.

" Da...Daddy? " Crystal stared up at her father with innocent, pleading eyes.

He gave her a comforting hug before returning his attention back to their rescuer.

The other man was suspiciously clad in combat boots and rough-textured clothes in dull, earthy hues of browns and greens. Maybe it was just a trick of the fleeting moonlight playing across the smooth contours of his face, but Chris thought he looked a little too pale. _Anemic, perhaps?_

Having finished business, the stranger turned and started off along the beach.

__

" Wait! Who are you? Do you know what it was you just shot back there? " Chris couldn't just let this guy walk away. Not without finding out how much he knew, and, more importantly, if he knew what was happening on the island.

__

He was a little surprised when the mystery guy actually stopped and turned around, meeting his gaze.

__

" The name's Rob. And that..." He gestured to the deceased zombie who's cold, lifeless fluids were now staining the sand, " ...well, I'll just say I know a zombie when I see one." His eyes shifted out to the ocean, which was still pounding the land like an angry fist. " You'd better be careful." He continued, voice smooth and emotionless, " A whole cruise ship full of them just ran aground about an hour ago. It won't be long...those things are going to be spread all over the island." His eyes returned to Chris. " Take care of yourself."

" Wait! A cruise ship? Where? What's happening here?! " His questions went unanswered.

Rob turned and sprinted along the beach until his retreating figure was absorbed in the shadows of the night.

_Well, that was a bit...strange. _Had he not had Crystal to look after, Chris may have followed him. He had a lot of questions for the guy. Namely what he was doing here and why he was dressed in military-esque attire and sporting a pair of uzis. _Maybe one of Umbrella's countermeasure service?_

It was plausible. Carlos had been a member of the UBSC sent to Raccoon City around the same time it was crawling with monsters and zombies. It was painfully obvious that Umbrella was no more attached to most of it's employees than they were post-it notes. 

__

Carlos was now the only survivor of his original team, and it was only with the help of sheer luck that he and Jill escaped the doomed Raccoon before it was nuked into oblivion courtesy of the U.S. military. 

Of course, that was an action that had saved countless lives. Hard for zombies to wander around and infect people if they were in itty-bitty pieces resting in the crater of ground zero. 

Chris took Crystal's hand and noticed it was freezing cold. " Brrr...your hands are like ice."

Crystal shivered in response, but did not look up. " Where's Mommy? "

Chris sighed and shook his head. " I wish I knew." But he didn't, and with the news of the shipwrecked zombies his worries only intensified. After all, the original idea of the trip had been a relaxing getaway, not a dangerous mission. Everyone was for the most part unarmed, and, sure--there might be one firearm in the jet--but who knew where that was? Rob certainly wasn't offering any explanations.

In any case, most of his fears were for Alexis and Seth. Jill and Claire both had experience on their side. They had been in life-threatening situations before and always came out on top. Ergo not likely to be zombified. Well, not _as_ likely.

Steve had the speed-healing on his side. He'd also managed to escape Rockfort, which had had it's fair share of nasties.

And Alan...well, that went without saying. Alan was more than capable of defending himself.

But Seth was just a small child and Alexis, though intelligent enough, was not exactly what you'd call a seasoned fighter. Even so, Alexis at least stood a fighting chance whereas Seth was every zombie's dream.

Holstering his gun rather awkwardly in the pocket of his shorts, Chris scooped his daughter up in his arms and started in the direction Rob had vanished. 

He had a feeling the pale young man knew more than he was letting on. _Was nice of him to give me the uzi though. And he did protect Crystal when I wasn't there for her. That makes me kinda like him. But why did he just run off like that? Hasn't he ever heard of safety in numbers?_

Apparently not.

The darkened beach stretched out before him, and now at least the rain had slowed to a light drizzle. The thunder had almost ceased. The wind seemed to have blown itself out of breath.

Chris trudged on over wet sand, every now and then wrinkling his nose in disgust at the disagreeable smells reaching his nose. For her part, Crystal was very quiet. Though he didn't want to disturb her by shifting her around in his arms too much, Chris guessed she was asleep. 

Poor little thing had had it rough. And walking in wet clothes was not fun. What they needed was shelter--preferably the jet--but all that was to be seen in the wane light was water, sand, trees, and more water.

For a fleeting moment, the clouds parted overhead to reveal an almost full moon.

_A Witches' Moon. _Chris recalled. He'd heard mention of it on the radio before, but he had never really paid that much attention to all that superstitious lore. He had always reasoned that it was just a collection of stories parents made up to frighten naughty children.

However, gazing at the moon now, and with all that had transpired in the past few hours, he wasn't so sure anymore. There just might be a ring of truth to some of those stories after all.

A rustle in the bush jarred him from his thoughts of witchcraft and sorcery. " Crystal, stay still." Thinking it might be a zombie--or worse--he set her down softly and retrieved his uzi, aiming the barrel in the direction of the noise.

It was very dark out, but he thought he could just detect the faintest sway in the plants; a rustle as quite as that of an ant walking between blades of grass. He felt his muscles tense, his finger tightening over the trigger. _What if it's that...that **thing **that was chasing me a while ago? _

He desperately hoped not. A little dab of a big ferocious monster went a long way. He was not enamored with the prospect of another encounter.

" Chris? Is that you? " 

Chris was so startled he nearly pulled the trigger, an action which he would have surely regretted as the ferns parted and Claire stepped out into the open, blinking in the moonlight.

" Claire! Yes, it's me." Chris breathed, relieved. " You scared me."

Claire approached with a dry laugh. " I scared _you_? I woke up all alone I the middle of Fern Gully with those weird howls. I never saw what was making them, but you know it's not like I wanted to make the effort. I'm telling you, there's some weird stuff happening around here." Her gaze feel on little Crystal, sleeping on the sand. " At least you found Crystal. Do you have even the faintest idea where anyone else might be? " 

Chris shook his head, grim-faced. " No. Listen, Claire I..." He paused, considering what he was about to say. " Nevermind. Let's just find some shelter and worry about the rest from there." 

No sense in getting her all freaked out over that giant thing that had chased him through the woods. The thing with fangs six feet long. It was enough to make the giant mutated snake he'd seen back at Spencer jealous with envy. _And just what kind of creature has teeth like that anyway?_

Claire nodded her agreement, then paused, her deep blue eyes trained on something off to the side. Her face was the picture of horror, shock, and sickening familiarity all rolled into one.

" What? " Chris craned his neck. His heart sank at the sight of a large group of zombies--at least fifty strong--staggering their way towards them with outstretched arms and decaying faces where the flesh had receded so much in places it revealed their blood-stained teeth forever fixed in a permanent grin. Some were even missing limbs where their fellow zombies had gnawed them off. Even the better-abled zombies had fair-sized chunks bitten out of them in places. One of the zombie women in front only had half a neck.

It was beyond gross.

" Oh." Snatching up Crystal up once more, and giving Claire an almost embarrassed nervous, Chris cautioned, " I forgot to mention. There are a bunch of shipwrecked zombies on this island."

" Are you sure? I thought they were just a bunch of friendly locals." 

The Redfield siblings turned and sped off, leaving the throng of disgruntled virus-carriers to grumble and moan behind them.

_ _


	9. A New Breed of an Old Foe

**Chapter 9**

Warning: I am going to slap an 'R' rating on this particular chapter. 00 It gets a little gory in parts.

A very large boulder sitting along the riverbank blocked Jill's path. _Stupid rock. _Not to be outdone, she made her way around it.

And nearly collided with a most unusual young woman going the opposite direction.

Jill froze instantly. " Oh, sorry, I didn't see you there."

The young woman laughed. " S'alright. You lost? "

Jill took a moment answering. The young woman--she looked no older than 25, maybe--had bright pink hair done up in spikes with an earring hanging from the top of each point, multiple ear and body piercings, and a spiked collar. Her body was coated in a wide array of tattoos...the portions of it that weren't overlapped by confining red leather pants or a shirt that most certainly must have made breathing a real chore.

It was a case of classic shock. She didn't want to stare, but at the same time she couldn't look away. _What in the name of all things holy is a woman like this doing on a stormy tropical island out in the middle of nowhere?!_

The girl looked fresh from a gang of New York hardcore punks.

" Lost? " Jill blinked, like she didn't know the meaning of the word, " Yes, actually. I got separated from my friends when that freak storm hit. Have you seen anyone else? Especially two little kids? "

The strange stranger cocked a ring-studded eyebrow, processing. It was a motion that made Jill a tad nervous.

Was it just her, or was this woman a little too pale?

" Can't say that I have." The tattooed woman shook her head slowly, seeming unfazed by the cold weather. " Name's Olivia, by the way." She offered her hand.

Jill just stared at it. Something about this weirdo didn't feel quite right. All her better instincts told her to have as little association as possible with this new person. _Besides, anyone who's that much of a fashion-victim obviously has issues. _Olivia needed a makeover, and bad.

" Go ahead, grab it. I don't bite." Olivia sounded mildly insulted.

_Well, at least she's company, _Jill reasoned, shaking Olivia's outstretched palm.

It was deathly cold.

" I'm Jill."

" Ah. Well Jill, I know where some shelter is. My friends and I have a nice warm fire built."

" Your friends? "

" Yeah. Three guys and another girl. We were stranded on this island a few hours ago when the storm blew us off-course and capsized our motorboat. We found a safe place to camp; an indentation in the side of a steep cliff. Problem was, I went out to investigate a strange noise I heard and got turned around." She laughed for effect, " Now I don't know weather I'm coming or going! Maybe the two of us together would have better luck finding the camp, 'ey? " Her toothy grin seemed very out of place.

Jill didn't trust her a bit. _She's acting way too weird. How can you go out to investigate a noise and get so utterly lost that you can't remember where your shelter is at?_ It was very possible the girl was mentally unstable; a retard or a fruitloop. But if she had friends, and she herself was anything less than sane, why would they let her just wander out like that after noises? Furthermore, why weren't they calling out for her? The story had holes. Being the S.T.A.R.S. intelligence for a reason, Jill saw this, recognized it. And she had every reason to be suspicious.

However, Olivia was right about at least one thing, and that was that it was not a very good idea to be out gallivanting alone. Plus it was someone to talk to.

" Sure." Jill tried to sound as friendly as possible despite the uneasy feeling in her stomach, " Do you remember the general direction at least? "

Olivia paused, and Jill swore she saw the girl lick the corner of her lips. " Yeah. I think it's over that way." She pointed a finger down the river in the exact direction from which Jill had just come.

Red flags went up in Jill's head. Something was wrong. She backed up just a step ever so slightly, casting the pink-haired renegade a wary eye. " But...I just came down that way. There's nothing down there but jungle. And you were coming from _that _direction." She pointed a finger straight ahead along the trail she'd been following.

Olivia drew back her cherry-red lips into an unsettling grin, her pale skin seeming almost ghost-like in the moonlight. " You are a sharp one, aren't you? " She started forward, a hungry look in her now almost feral eyes.

" What's...what's wrong with you? " Jill stammered, wishing she had a weapon handy. There was something so _wrong _about this girl and the looks she kept receiving from her, " Look, whatever it is, maybe I could help? "

A desperate stab at reasoning.

Olivia laughed softly. It was a creepy, evil sound. " Believe it or not, you _can_! " She ducked her head and lunged, swift as an arrow, and jabbed Jill in the stomach with her elbow. The S.T.A.R.S. member collided with the ground.

" What are you doing?! " Jill lashed out with her hand in an attempt to catch Olivia in the face, but the punk girl caught her wrist and straddled her, crushing her other arm with her knee.

" Come on Jilly, we just want a piece of ya! " Olivia then did something completely unexpected. She lowered her head and _bit_ Jill's captive arm just below the wrist. _Hard._

Jill cried out in pain. Her arm felt as if it were being held in the teeth of a steel-jaw trap! She flailed her legs and tried to buck her assailant off. No such luck. However, she did manage to free her other arm.

Her fist flew up...only to be smacked back to the dirt by Olivia's hand.

She was so strong! Inhumanly strong, in fact.

" Stop! Please stop! " Jill begged. The plea for mercy was ignored. Olivia bit all the harder.

Blood welled up around the prank girl's lips in a deep red puddle. She seemed to revel it. Jill tried to pull free, but Olivia chose that moment to jerk her head up with a vicious twist that ripped a chunk of Jill's arm off in her mouth.

This was too much. The redheaded S.T.A.R.S. member had never experienced such sheer, raw agony before. Pain! The pain was unbearable! The signals shot through her veins in fiery ribbons of anguish, snaking their way to her brain where they screamed of a terrible injury. When she glimpsed her arm and saw that a large piece of it was missing, leaving a bloody mess of tissue and ligaments with a gleam of something white...she fought the urge to throw up.

Bone! The crazy girl had bitten right down to the bone!

She could only watch in horror and disgust as Olivia swallowed her gory treat. " Mmmm, tasty." The spike-haired woman traced her tongue over her lower lip, licking up every last stubborn spot of blood. " Coulda used a little salt though."

Jill struggled madly and was rewarded with a sharp slap in the face. " Tut tut. It's time for the carving. You can scream if you want."

And Jill did scream when her attacker reached into one of those tight leather pockets and produced a wicked-looking hunting knife. One of those all-purpose cutlery made for skinning deer and gutting ducks or trout. The balde glinted silver in the moonlight. Jill helped herself to another high-pitched scream, hoping that somewhere one of her teammates would hear her and come to her aid. _Omigod, she's one of those crazy killer cannibals and now she wants to chop me into more bite-sized pieces!_

The knife came down.

Summoning every last ounce of strength woven into the very fiber of her being, and ignoring the searing torment in her right arm, Jill managed to catch the knife on it's descent; the blade sheathed between both hands. However, that alone would not be enough to prolong her life for more than three seconds. It was time for a plan B, and fast.

With no other obvious solution in sight, and seconds away from a grisly death, Jill risked freeing one of her hands for a fraction of a second. She made up for the lost support by wrapping her left hand painfully around the blade and jabbed one of the fingers on her right hand up for Olivia's eye.

Olivia jerked back, but she was not fast enough. One of the fingers struck a grazing blow to her left eye and she drew back further, hissing with pain and rage. The distraction cost her her knife. Her red-haired victim managed to wrench it free from her hand while she was busy worrying about her eye.

Now in possession of the deadly weapon, Jill slashed up and plunged the sharp edge deep into the cavity of her assailant's chest.

Olivia's hiss of rage turned to a shriek of agony. Her eyes fell to see the knife lodged into her flesh almost up to it's hilt. Ouch.

It was now or never. Gathering the what she was sure must be the last reserves of her strength, Jill bucked up and managed to throw Olivia off like a horse dislodging it's rider.

The mortally wounded punk girl sunk to the ground, a darkened pool of blood blossoming up around the metal in her chest. Her eyes registered shock and pain, yet the zest of life seemed reluctant to leave them.

Barely able to move, Jill staggered to her feet, breathless and bloodied. It had been a tough struggle, and she was still losing lots of blood, but she'd live. If she didn't bleed to death first.

_Why'd she do that? _She regarded Olivia hatefully, a disgusted snarl transforming her features.

Disgust was replaced with shock.

In an unnatural, almost graceful speed, the crazy psycho-killer-knife-wielding-maniac who had tried to dice her to fettuccini only moments ago simply sprang up to her feet and tore the knife free in one powerful pull. Her eyes were glazed with an indomitable passion of rage.

" That hurt! " She pulled her lips back in a ferocious snarl, a snarl that froze all the marrow in Jill's bones.

" How did you...how did...what _are _you? " She gasped, horrified. Olivia wasn't entirely human. Not even Alan would be able to survive a knife through the heart_! This is crazy! How can she still be up?_

Olivia made a face. " This is insulting. Really."

" That should have killed you! " She backed up, wondering where to run. The dark jungle seemed her only safe bet. However, it was doubtful she'd be able to make it there in time--the tree-line was a good fifty feet away over thick mud--but if she made it she might be able to lose Olivia in all the vegetation. It was beyond lame. But the only other option was to jump in the river, an action that would most certainly mean suicide. However, at least if she died in the river this...this _maniac _wouldn't be able to feast on her flesh.

What morbid thoughts. She still hoped to get out of this alive, but the prognosis looked grim.

Olivia narrowed her eyes dangerously, barely noticing the hole in her body that was oozing a thick, syrupy blood.

_Thick? Syrupy? _What about this looked so familiar?

Only one other type of creature Jill had ever encountered bled like that...

" Should have killed me? " Olivia laughed harshly, " Sorry to disappoint, but you cannot kill someone who is already dead."

" What are you talking about? "

The river or the woods. The choices flashed in Jill's mind.

Olivia tossed her head and rolled her eyes, offended. " Come on now, Toots. Even _you _can't be that stupid. I eat raw flesh, I crave brains, and I'm dead. You must have slain tons similar to me in the Spencer mansion and Raccoon and you still haven't figured it out? I'm a freaken _zombie_! Duuh! "

She flexed the gory knife menacingly in her hand, giving Jill the feral gaze of a hungry predator.

" A zombie?! But zombies can't talk! "

Olivia snorted. " Says who? "

" And you don't..._look_ like a zombie."

Olivia actually chuckled a little at this. " Of course I don't _look like a zombie_. Do you honestly think I could have survived for so long if I looked like one of those rancid T-virus carriers? If I did, then everyone would run from me screaming 'Ah! Zombie!' And I'd have a heck of a time getting a bite to eat." She wrinkled her nose in disgust, tsk-tsking. " I've wasted enough time chatting with you, Supper! "

There was only the faintest warning, the faintest coiling of muscles like a cat just before it pounces. The only action that betrayed Olivia's charge.

_River or jungle_...there was no more time to debate--Jill dashed for the river. Onl;y fifteen more feet and she'd be there...it was a lousy way to go, but it beat being gutted alive with a hunting knife any day.

Most likely she'd drown or be bashed to death against the rocks. But at least she wouldn't be zombie fodder. And hey, there was still a one in a hundred chance she might survive.

Olivia noticed the plan and altered directions accordingly. She wasn't anywhere near as slow or uncoordinated as a traditional zombie. Quite the contrary, she was very fast and ran with a rather graceful gait. Jill had only seconds to get into the water before she would be upon her.

_The last seconds of my life...I can't die like this!_ She couldn't.

No. She _wouldn't._

She wouldn't let herself go out that easily. One thing her team had always admired her for: she was a fighter. And fighters didn't jump into rivers when the chips were down.

In that moment sheer raw determination set in, and she barely noticed the pain in her arm, or the cold, or the large collection of scratches, bumps, and bruises that flecked her body.

Her will to live was now stronger than ever. The others needed her. Her _kids _needed her. And if there were more like Olivia running loose on the island, well someone had to let the rest of the team know.

She came to a halt at the very tip of the ledge, her reasoning being that since Olivia wanted to eat her she wouldn't want her prey to fall over the edge.

The next few seconds happened so quickly they almost felt like a dream.

Olivia grabbed the back of Jill's shirt in an attempt to yank her back.

Jill had been ready for just such an action, and the instant it happened she retaliated by twirling around and fiercely locking her fingers into one of the pink hair spikes. In this initial moment of surprise she jerked the zombie's head forward while at the same time tripping her legs out from under her in a move Chris had taught her years back. The combination attack worked perfectly, and Jill was able to hurtle the bloodthirsty Olivia off the cliff with a quick thrust.

One thing she failed to take into account though was the fact that Olivia had not relinquished her grip on her shirt, and she fell forward, desperately clawing at the ground. Unable to withstand such treatment, the fabric of the garment gave way and part of it tore off in Olivia's hand. The zombie fell off the bank and crashed with a loud scream into the raging current where she vanished beneath the silvery-white foam.

Painfully, Jill rolled onto her side, breathing heavy. She may have won the fight with Olivia, but now the damage was taking it's toll. _Must...get up...call for help._

But she had the strength to do neither. Her right arm throbbed, torturing her. Her life's blood spilled in alarming amounts onto the already damp ground. And her muscles ached in every sense of the word. She was still wet and cold, but now she was also battered and beaten.

It hurt too much to move. She couldn't get up. This was it.

_I guess I really am going to die after all._

She shut her eyes, ready to welcome the freedom from the pain.

---------------------------------------------

The lava was getting closer and Steve was running out of time. It was almost by accident that his eye caught a faint fissure in the side of the stone wall. A faint _straight_ fissure. Like perhaps there was a secret door there?

There had better be, or else he was dead.

He rested both hands against the sandy outcropping and pushed inward. Much to his relief, the stone slid back and a narrow passage opened up.

It was pitch black, save for a few symbols carved at random into the sides of the walls glowing a very bright volcanic red.

Weird?

Yes, definitely.

However, at this particular moment Steve didn't care if there were live cobras slithering about all over the ground as long as he could escape the river of death. So it was without much thought other than the lava flow weighing heavily on his mind that he dashed in.

There was only one way to find out where this passage led.

-------------------------

Veronica lounged on one of the comfy padded couches she'd furnished for her newly rebuilt castle. She was in her own private setting now; in a small room positioned inside the upper level of one of the towers where she could watch all that transpired through a huge glass window.

Outside the dark storm cloud swirled, easing off a bit in intensity but still shaking the island with the occasional thunderclap. A merciless sea pounded the shore. High waves punished the beach and beat anything unfortunate enough to get caught up in it into pulp.

Veronica watched it all in bored disdain, slumped over the couch like a teenager watching a TV show.

Of course, she had control over the weather. She could make it high noon of a sunny day if she felt so inclined. But the storm matched her mood, and she didn't really want it to end just yet.

She needed time to rest, to recuperate, before she could even begin to think about seeking her foe, much less putting her grandiose plans into motion.

Powerful as she may be, even Veronica could not run hot for long. Right now she was feeling drained--morphing into a dragon, teleporting, and raising castles from bare ground would do that to you--and resting was the only sure way to replenish her mystical energies.

As for the other Ashfords, she'd given them assignments around the castle. Little chores to keep them busy and out of her hair. She was fairly comfortable about letting them run about freely; they posed no threat.

Well, for the most part anyway.

If she had any worries at all it would be where Alexia was concerned. Out of all the Ashfords she came closest to being a formidable adversary. Intelligence and strength together were a powerful combination. It wasn't as good as magic, but it was nothing to be written off either.

Fortunately, Alexia had already been put in her place. Though problems could still arise later on down the road if she were to snoop about and learn too many of her ancestor's secrets. That would not do. Should that occur Veronica would have to kill her.

Gently, she ran a hand over her flaming red hair. _A lot has changed over the years,_ she thought, _some for better, some for worse. I wonder what happened to my son Stanley?_

This stirred up some bad memories. She had been taken from her son too early; had never gotten the chance to see him grow up. Never gotten a chance to be a big part of his life. In her mind's eye, he was still a baby. Still a fragile, innocent, sometimes-pain-in-the-neck baby. _Poor Stanley. Having to grow up without his mother._

Obviously, though, her son had lived to sire the ancestor of the current Ashfords, the ones in the castle down below.

_Stupid teacup. _She should have smelled a trap. But no, she'd been too preoccupied with all those grandiose plans. _A hell of a lot of good they did me in that vile teacup. But was that really Discord's doing? Or some pesky white magic do-gooder trying to carve a name for his or herself?_

That question was a little tricky to answer.

Veronica hadn't exactly been a popular little sorceress back in her day. In fact, the list of people who wanted her dead was quite long.

Most of them were insignificant nothings. The kind of power Veronica possessed was hard to attain. It had taken her centuries to get where she was, and it went without saying that no novice magic user stood the ghost of a chance against her.

However, there were a few...there were a few who posed a more serious threat. Discord was one of those. A pair or so of unusually powerful white witches was the other.

Stupid goody-two-shoes think they run the show. She shook her head, disgusted. Once this threat was over, things were going to be different.

A lot different.

_Ah, comfy. _She closed her eyes in bliss, sinking deep into the folds of the padded couch. It crossed her mind that she was hungry, and that she should probably get something to eat.

" Hmmm...what sounds good? " She didn't care that she was thinking aloud. Sanity was much overrated.

Eyes still shut, she opened her mind to the knowledge she'd gained from the internet, channeled her energies into one single thought process. Instantly thousands of recipes raced through her mind at a breakneck pace; pictures of gourmet foods straight from web pages.

She halted on the image of oatmeal raisin cookies. _Mmm, yummers! Those look good!_

She opened her eyes, lost the image. Sat up straight and stretched. Cracked her knuckles.

" Well cookers, time to whip up a little fun! " Arcing her arm upwards in a ridiculously exaggerated manner, she pointed to the area in front of her and _poof_, a coffee table popped into existence. Not just any coffee table either, no. This one was a fancy red oak with mahogany trim and a glossy finish.

" Now for the treats." She pointed at the table and a plate of perfect oatmeal raisin cookies appeared. Next to the plate a glass of milk winked in as the perfect compliment. " Yeah, much better." She opened a hand and floated a cookie to her.

Sure, she could have stooped over to pick one up--the plate was only a foot away--but by golly, that just seemed like so much work.

She had just lifted the cookie to her mouth when there was a sharp knock on the door. _Always when I'm eating._

At least they had knocked, so nice to know her family still had _some_ manners.

" C'mon in, oh loyal subjects of mine." _Ok, so maybe **loyal** isn't exactly the right word._ Her relationship with the other Ashfords was poor at best. Most of them disliked her intensely, and she knew it.

The door flew open and Alfred, Alexia, Ash, and Alexandra poured into the room.

" We have done as you asked, Veronica." Alexia declared.

Was it just her, or did her eldest female descendant seem a little miffed?

Veronica's violet eyes swept over each of them in turn. Only Alexandra wasn't frowning. _Great. Just peachy. My adoring fan club. They can barely contain their joy at seeing me._

" You've finished your tasks then? "

" Yes." Ash moaned, looking exhausted, " I even re-arranged the sock drawers. _Seven_ times, just like you asked." His job had been to neatly arrange all the clothing in the dress-rooms and alphabetize them by color.

" All the torture devices in the basement are neatly cleaned and ready for victims." Alfred offered.

" The drawing room and lounge are immaculate." Alexia stated, keeping her tone conversational despite her harsh feelings towards her mistress.

" Excellent! " Veronica's cheer was met with less-than-enthusiastic frowns.

" Cookies! " Alexandra ran up to the plate, then paused, unsure. She fixed Veronica with those ice-blue eyes. " I mean, may I? Please? "

Veronica laughed. " Of course. Go ahead and help yourself. It's not like I had to slave over a hot stove or anything."

" Yes, that would be terrible." Ash could not refrain from saying. Lucky for him, Veronica didn't catch on.

Alexandra took a cookie. " Thank you."

" You're welcome. Perhaps sometime I shall let you try an old recipe from my era. I got bored with it after the first few hundred times, but you would probably like it."

Alexandra chewed her cookie thoughtfully.

Her parents and brother exchanged curious glances, each too wary to ask the question that the statement brought up.

" Your era? When was that? " Alexandra wondered, " How old are you? "

Veronica took a bite of cookie before answering. " Well, I don't usually like to tell people my age, but we're all family here so you may as well know. I was born during the latter part of the Renaissance in Europe. My birthday was January 15th,1492." She turned to Alexia. " You're good with numbers, how old does that make me? "

Alexia blinked, impressed. " Five hundred twelve. You're 512 years old! "

Veronica smirked proudly. " Yep. Though a good 150 of those years might as well have been flushed straight down the toilet."

" You hide your age rather well." Alfred supplied, stating the obvious.

Veronica giggled. " Of course. I can look any age I want. A newborn baby. A hundred year old woman. Anything. One of the perks of being immortal. Age isn't such a big deal."

An awkward silence gripped the room. Alexandra and Veronica went on eating cookies. The others just watched and held back biting remarks, fantasizing Veronica's slow and painful death. Alexia in particular would've liked to rip her throat out and paint the walls in her blood.

This went on for nearly two full minutes before Veronica's hatred of silence surfaced yet again.

" Ah, come on now." She chuckled lightly, awarding the others a lopsided grin, " I can't be _that _bad of company."

" It's not that you're bad company," Ash said quickly, shifting his weight nervously, " It's just that...well, to be perfectly honest..." He felt the molten stare of his parents' eyes upon him and wilted. _I'd better not mess up_, " well, we don't know what's safe to say around you without getting well, you know, zapped. Or turned into hamsters." _Or getting flung around a room to the tune of godawful music. _He still had the remnants of a headache from that little mind-numbing experience. _Cruel and inhumane torture, that's what it is! Pure torture!_

" Hmm...." Veronica paused, as if mulling it over. Then she walked straight up to Alexia and slid a hand under her chin.

It took all of Alexia's will power and then some not to slap her hand away and break her arm. She wanted to recoil at the touch, knew better than to. Still, she couldn't even pretend to be neutral. _Get your hand off me you..._

Veronica noticed Alexia's venomous glare. " Why Alexia dear, whatever is the matter? Jealous? You're still not sore because I nearly killed you and took over your title as Mistress to the family, are you? I was hoping we could be friends."

_Oh no, I harbor no ill feelings whatsoever. In fact, I rather enjoyed having every inch of my ass kicked by you! Even better that you made me your flunkie and stole everything that ever meant anything to me. You know what? I'm ecstatic. Let's be best friends! _The faintest hint of a sneer registered on Alexia's lips. Her and Veronica could never be friends. Not that she thought her red-haired ancestor really meant it anyway.

" I don't get the feeling you like me very well, Alexia."

_Wow, whatever gave you that idea? _Still, she remained rigid. Assumed the stance of a stone gargoyle. It might have been a good charade if not for the fact that she still looked mightily pissed off. Anyone with half a brain could tell.

This just wasn't her day. Violent thoughts swam through her mind: fantasies of what she'd like to do to this holier-than-thou hellgoddess who had the audacity to call herself an Ashford.

Alfred and Ash looked on, hating Veronica but too smart to let it show.

Alexandra continued munching cookies, seemingly oblivious to the whole thing.

The moment was pregnant with silence.

Then Veronica removed her hand from under her descendant's chin, backing away with the phony expression of a hurt puppy. " Oh dear! I feel so unloved. My own flesh and blood hates me! " She pouted.

The Ashford twins and their son were taken aback.

Alfred gave his sister an odd look, She's nuttier than Planters! 

I won't argue with that. Alexia nodded agreeably.

When they looked back veronica's pouty face had disappeared, but her facial expression was still about as serious as Looney Tunes. " Hmphf, you're not even talking to me, and that's just rude." She twitched her pointer finger and a snake of sizzling black energy jolted forward and struck Alexia's shoulder, sending her staggering backwards.

She wiggled her finger back and forth as if Alexia were a naughty child who needed disciplining. " Tut tut, Alexia dear. Not a good idea to rudely ignore me. You may be smarter than me, but I have the power to make your life completely miserable. What have you to say to that? "

Alexia put on a faux grin. " Of course. My apologies, Veronica." This woman was really getting under her skin.

Veronica nodded her approval. " Very good. Now all of you, leave me. Go clean the bathrooms or whatever."

" But the bathrooms are already clean! " Alfred protested.

The red-haired sorceress rolled her eyes and made a curt swipe-like motion with her hand. " There. I fixed that."

Toothbrushes materialized in in each of the other Ashfords' hands, save Alexandra.

Alexia stared at her stick of dental hygiene as if she had never seen one before. She can't be serious!

Ash held his Orale B out in front of him and pointed at it repeatedly. " Um, what are the..." Then the horrible realization dawned, " Oh." He lowered his arms to his sides, defeated. " I guess we'd better get started then." He said in dull, flat tones. He wasn't exactly enamored with the prospect of what he was going to have to do.

Veronica nodded decisively. " That's right. Your cleaning tool. Now get down their and scrub those toilets and be thankful that I don't ask you to brush your teeth when you are done. Get! " She pointed to the door and it jerked open on cue, as if yanked by some invisible string.

Alfred and Alexia turned in unison and walked out of the room, thankful at least to be away from _her_.

As his parents filed out, Ash glanced back and noticed Alexandra following, toothbrush-free. " Hey! Veronica! You forgot Alexandra! " If he had to do it, then _everyone_ had to do it.

" Alexandra doesn't have to do chores." Veronica explained, rubbing her temple and with her eyes half closed. Using a lot of magic so soon was taking a lot out of her_. I really must cut back, save all my big tricks for Discord or whoever I'm dealing with._

" What? What makes Alexandra so special? "

_Of all the stupid annoyances_. " The fact that I like her better than all of you! " Veronica stated blatantly, totally abandoning such concepts as _tact_. She zapped a green lighting bolt that bit Ash in the rear, speeding him along his way. _That'll teach him_.

Her youngest descendant froze in the threshold, innocent blue eyes devoid of all the hate and ill will harbored by the rest of her family. " Veronica? " Her voice was small and meek.

" Yes? " Veronica flipped back onto the couch with the all the fluid grace of a baby hippo jumping off a diving board.

" What do you want me to do? "

Veronica shrugged, her expression serious for a change. " I don't care. Do...whatever. Just try to stay out of my hair. I have a battle to prepare for. People to kill. Lives to ruin. You get the idea."

Alexandra left the room, shutting the door softly behind her.

That took care of that. For the time being anyway.

Veronica leaned back with a sigh, continuing to massage her throbbing temple. _The pain, why can't I make the pain go away? _It was rare for her to be afflicted with mortal ailments. She never got sick anymore. So why was she getting a headache?

_Veronica, girl, you must be losing it. _She stared straight ahead. Gazed at the almost empty plate of oatmeal raisin cookies as if they held all the answers.

The remainder of the night was filled with the rage of the enduring typhoon which did not finally relinquish until dawn.


	10. Switching Places

__

_A/N: Okay, part of this chapter has the characters conversing in French. O.o Since I am far from fluent in the language, ( I only know one phrase: Omelette du Fromage--**the cheese omelet**, and Bonjour--**hello** ) I have decided that I would be better off just writing it all in English and you can pretend that it is in French, k? =^.^= _

By the way, I only know about the cheese omelet because I adore 'Dexter's Laboratory'. =D ( The earlier ones, the later ones just got ridiculous ) ^^ Enjoy!

Chapter 10

Stratford, England, 1504 ( Renaissance )

_There was much work to be done in the Wells household. Chores kept piling up and seemed never to get done. Dishes here, wash there, then there was the whole business of taking what goods you happened to be selling that particular week to market._

On this particular afternoon, the only child of the house--a petite twelve year old girl with wild red hair--was watching her mother melt wax for candles. Curious, she looked on in fascination as all the old and useless wax from candles long since spent molded together into the contours of the sturdy iron kettle suspended over the hearth. It was a process she had seen many times before--as long as she could remember, in fact--_but it never got old watching the varying hues of white and yellow swirl together, the lumpy stubs smoothing out and melding into liquid ivory; a beautiful shade of almost undiluted white. It seemed almost magical._

Sighing, the girl's mother, Margaret, relocated to a chair where she could fashion wicks for the new supply. Momentarily, the elder woman's eyes fell to her daughter, and a frown upset the edges of her mouth. It seemed her child could never take anything seriously. This was a setback in these particularly trying times. Soon she would be ready to wed, and what kind of self-respecting man would want for a wife a daydreamer who would rather chase butterflies in the field, or go climb the trees near the lake, than do housework or mind the family?

_" Veronica! "_

The girl turned with a sigh. She knew some form of chores awaited her. Earlier this morning she had had the misfortune of glimpsing a basket of dirty clothes that might as well have had her name on it. Absolutely despising laundry the way she did, Veronica had opted to pretend she didn't see the dreaded basket. A shame that simply ignoring chores did not make them vanish. No doubt her mother wished for her to break out the laundry tub, heat the water, and wash them. Then there was the wringing and the folding, putting away...Veronica winced. She would much sooner do dishes than a tub of laundry.

" Yes, Mother? " She replied in fluid French, speaking their native tongue. The family was originally from France.

_Her mother regarded her sympathetically, staring deep into those violet-blue eyes. They brimmed with youth, innocence, and hope. All of which were lost to Margaret. _

Not three years ago her husband Richard, one of the best blacksmiths in town, had succumbed to a violent illness that had come horrifyingly close to taking her own life as well. Life had never been the same since. It was very hard for a single mother to earn a living in an era where men had all the power and women were thought of as little more than property. There simply wasn't much a woman could do to earn money. It wasn't fair. It especially was not fair to little Veronica, who didn't get to enjoy half the pleasures as her more well-off cousins who were blessed with luxuries such as going to school. Though Margaret had tried many times to attract and wed a man of higher class, at twenty-seven years of age she was considered an old maid and not desirable for marriage among the majority of plausible suitors. In addition to this, she was a Wiccan, and in these superstitious ages she had to be especially careful about whom she let know this. Too many people confused Paganism with witchcraft and sorcery. Too many people feared what they did not understand.

The laundry really needed washing. She should ask Veronica to do it, save herself some time for other, more urgent work. 

She should, yet she hesitated. 

How long ago had it been since she had last enjoyed a good break? The family was very poor and practically had to beg for their food each day. Life was little more than mere survival right now. She found herself too busy working and trying to make ends meet so her and her daughter may survive another day to worry much about weather or not she was happy. 

But wasn't that what life was all about? Enjoying what you could of it while you existed? Why deny her daughter a moment of happiness? Why force her to grow up sooner than she had to? Surely just this once would not hurt.

_" Veronica, I need you to gather the sacred herbs and flowers on the hilltop. Then maybe later on tonight once I am finished with the chores we can perform a prosperity spell."_

There. That wasn't so bad a task. Veronica loved magic with a passion. It would give her something to look forward to. As an added bonus, it would provide more ingredients for the herbal remedies she concocted to heal the sick. Grateful patients always gave what they could spare, and every little bit helped. In many instances it had kept them from starving. 

Veronica was all too eager. " Herbs? Great! " Take **_that_** dumb old laundry! Not today!_ " I shall start at once! " She rubbed her hands together cheerfully. Tonight was going to kick so much butt! " Can't wait to do the spell! " She started for the door, her plain and tattered brown dress bouncing with her step._

Her mother smiled warmly after her. " Be careful, Veronica." 

" I will, Mother." Veronica sang, skipping out merrily into the bright sunlight and rushing for the lush, grassy hill.

***********************************************************************

****

Not more than twenty-five miles off the coast of Majika Island, 2004

The storm had at last subsided, and now a cool gray mist had settled across both land and sea, cloaking the island in a veil of mystery. _Well it's about time. _Wesker thought, starting the engine, _That was some storm. _He frowned, thinking of the delay and what it meant.

It had made for one painfully tedious night, that was for sure.

But now the sky was clear and there was nothing blocking his path to Majika.

************************************************************************

Somewhere on Majika Island........... 

The old lava-cave was quite; it's three occupants sound asleep. Since the storm had lasted much longer than they had expected, and since a typhoon at night was not the best opportunity for drying your clothes or finding your friends, Alan and Alexis had at last surrendered to the idea of some shut-eye. Now they were snuggled protectively to either side of Seth.

The boy tossed about in the blankets, suddenly restless. Almost fully awake, he opened one eye. What he saw was so strange, it caused him to open _both_ eyes and bolt straight up. 

_What is **that?!**_

The air directly above him shimmered, as if it were water being rippled._ Am I still dreaming? _Both curious and a little frightened, he sat for a moment and continued to watch this strange phenomenon. He had to be sure his eyes weren't playing tricks on him before he bothered Alan and Alexis.

_Wow! That's pretty_....quick as a flash, the ripples in the air formed a circle; a mad vortex of energy swirling in breathtaking blues and purples that glowed with an abnormal intensity.

Seth's mouth hung open. The circle above him was big enough to be the rim of a decent-sized wading pool! The air in the center of this 'pool' was suddenly animated with flashes and whippets of white lightning, transforming the atmosphere around it into a frenzied hurricane of swirling colors and shimmering sparkles. 

As he watched, the whirlpool shifted, and now the color of the inner area was predominantly blue, with flecks and splashes of other colors here and there to give it an insane but dazzling appearance. Strangely enough it made no noise, save a faint, almost inaudible crackling; like dry leaves on a Autumn day.

Seth remembered seeing something like it in Sci-fi movies: a _porthole_, that's what it was called. Most adults tended to believe they were fake, that they didn't really exist, but here he was, sitting with one not five feet away! He _had _to show Alan and Alexis! They were going to miss it! 

" A..." An excited Seth barely had time to utter the first sound of the letter 'A' before a radiant funnel of violet and burgundy exploded from the porthole and sucked him in. All in the time it took to bat an eye.

Barely a second had gone by before the very same porthole retched back and jettisoned out a brown-haired teenaged boy clad in blue jeans, white Nike sneakers, and a green T-shirt depicting an out-of proportion pterodactyl; wings spread. The startled young man landed in a awkward heap smack-dab between Alan and Alexis with a muffled "Oo_f_."

Alan's eyes snapped open immediately, and in just enough time to catch the faintest glimpse of a rapidly-shrinking portal winking out of existence. 

Alexis woke right after, and backed away quickly at the sight of a stranger so close. 

" What the hell is going on here?! " Alan bolted upright, regarding the stranger with feral red-and-yellow cat's eyes. 

His sudden movement surprised the boy, who jerked back and unwittingly hit Alexis in the nose with his elbow. Regaining his feet, he leapt up and spun around to see who he had hit. A most confused, bewildered expression crossed his face.

" Oops. Sorry."

His voice was unlike any she'd heard in the past, it held a certain warmth to it, and Alexis thought it sounded a bit like Chris's voice. She studied him with growing curiosity. _He doesn't look threatening. _The stranger before them looked just like any other typical teenaged boy with a thin, kinda gangly body, somewhat well-toned muscles, and dark brown hair that was as of now a little on the disheveled side. 

There was something familiar about those fudge-brown eyes, and the light that burned within them. In fact, she was starting to notice that this newcomer bore a resemblance to Chris. Weird.

Alan, however, seemed not to notice. All he knew for certain was that this guy had come out of nowhere, a fact which deeply disturbed him. The poor lad didn't even get a chance to explain himself before Alan was all the way up had him pinned against the side of the lava-rock wall.

" Who are you? " He sneered, his tone less than friendly. He drove his right hand a little deeper into the boy's throat, choking his air supply.

" Alan, what are you doing?! " The teen gasped, eyes wide and bulging, " I'm not sure what the deal is here, but you're acting like I just ate your last pizza-pocket or something. Chill man. It's just me."

Alan released his hold and let the newcomer drop, a bit embarrassed that he'd been so quick to resort to violence. After all, regardless of how he'd ended up in the cave without being heard, he was just a teenaged boy. Not unlike the way he himself had been once. _That doesn't automatically make him innocent, but he at least deserves a chance to explain himself_. Alan thought. He looked sheepishly to Alexis and was rewarded with a frown of disapproval.

Great. Nothing like having a second opinion when you acted like a jerk. 

Alan backed off, leaving the teen room to collect himself. " Sorry. I just..." He fumbled for words, felt himself in the spotlight, " It's not a very good idea to surprise me like that. Someone could get hurt." As he said this his eyes changed back to a tranquil blue-green. Perhaps it was too late to fool this new person into believing he was normal, but he hoped the action would at least make him appear less threatening. He was all too aware of what effects seeing such strange eyes had on a person.

The young man rubbed the red spot on his throat. " Ow. Someone like me." He made a face, " A little rough, don't you think? "

" I didn't mean to hurt you." Alan replied coolly, unsure yet whether he meant that or not.

Alexis approached Alan from the side. Her curious blue eyes were fixed on their guest. " Who are you? And how did you know Alan's name? " 

Alan flinched uncomfortably. " Oh, I really hope you're not one of the Umbrella soldiers from Muscatine, because if you are I just want to say that what I did that night..."

The teenager lowered one eyebrow and lifted another in classic confusion. " Oooookaaaay. I am just going to pretend this is not happening. Nope." He shook his head. " That's the last time I eat four-day old potato salad right before bed." He paused, taking in his surroundings before wiping a hand across his face.

Alan shook his head feverishly. " You can deny it all you like, but the truth is that this _is_ really happening, so you might as well come to grips with it. You knew my name. How? "

The teen nodded agreeably. " Yes, _how_, that's a very good question. How did I get in this cave? And why, why, _why_ can't I remember the past oh, say, eleven or so years of my life? " He shook his head, an action which spoke of fear and genuine confusion. " Man, whatever you guys slipped in my drink..."

" What are you talking about? " Alan said in a tone of disbelief, " You're acting like you know us, and while it's good to hear you weren't in on that little Umbrella operation--forget I even mentioned that, on second thought--I have never seen you before in my life. I'm sorry, man, but if there's any drugs involved, it's _you_ doing them."

" Hey, where's Seth? " Alexis was first to pick up on the fact that the boy was missing.

Alan scanned the perimeter quickly, his anxieties rising. _Damn._

The brown haired teenager looked as though he'd just been slapped. " Okay, I call a time-out! " He walked up until he was standing no more than three feet in front of Alan and Alexis, tapping his fingers into his palm in the classic gesture. 

The pair ceased their visual searches around the cave and studied him impatiently. Little Seth was out there all alone, and they needed to find him sooner rather than later. _If anything were to happen to that little kid...._

" This has gone too far. Now I'm up for a good laugh-a-minute dope 'em up and play with their heads prank as much as much as the next person, but this is taking it a step too far, don't you think? Come on, you guys are acting like you don't even know me! It's me, Seth! I know you, Alan Stephen Wesker. Alexis Alexia Ashford. See? I even remembered your middle names you almost never use! I grew up with you two...more or less, I think. " He shook his head, frustrated. " That's where my memories get kinda fuzzy. Like trying to watch the TV in science class. But I _know_ you."

Alan blinked, shocked. " You're Seth? As in Seth _Redfield_? " This was a lot to process. _But he can't be...Seth was only five, this boy is at least sixteen...he can't have aged eleven years in overnight! _But all his senses lead credibility to Seth's claim. The young man before him did look like he could be an older version of Seth. He smelled like Seth. His voice, though deeper, carried some of the same inflections as the child's. And what do you know? He even resembled Chris! Not a lot, but the two shared the same basic shape of face. He even had Chris's nose.

Alan crossed his arms in a very Wesker-ish fashion, baffled and awed at the same time.

" You _can't _be! " Alexis marveled, though in truth she already believed him and had accepted the fact that mystical forces were at work here, " Seth Redfield is only five! "

Seth shook his head, amused and a good deal shocked himself. " Nope! Survey says...sixteen! Sorry Miss Ashford, you don't win the year's supply of hair-gel products, not like you need them anyway. Now I know something's wrong here...what year is it? "

" 2004." Alan said without missing a beat. He knew where Seth was heading with this.

Seth laughed wryly. " Just as I thought. Now, I may be fuzzy on the exact details, but last I checked it was 2015. I'm pretty sure of that."

" And I'm pretty sure it's not." Alexis countered, " Which means....Seth, this is very important. What was the last thing you remember before you...wound up here? "

Seth crumpled a hand against his forehead, straining to remember. " Let's see...I was in my room...can't remember now exactly what it looked like, and that is seriously creeping me out. But I do remember that I was listening to some music and watching TV. Then this shiny portal-thingie decided to manifest itself in front of the TV. Being reasonably surprised, I remember thinking how cool and pretty it was before it sucked me into it. Next thing I know, I'm here." He threw up his arms in demonstration, " And you two are acting mega-time weird with a capital 'W', so I'm guessing I somehow went back in time. Wow. This is crazy." He studied the strange expressions of his friends before adding, " And now you probably think I am too." He crossed his arms curtly, echoing a posture Chris so often used.

" Actually, I think you hit the nail on the head." Alexis agreed, fascinated, " After all he weird things that have been happening lately, why not? "

" Whoa, this is incredible! " Alan marveled, accepting the truth and finding himself fascinated with it, " You're really from the future? That's...awesome! " He stepped forward and tapped Seth's shoulder, halfway expecting him to vanish into thin air.

Seth pushed his hand away carefully. " Hey! Easy there, you could hurt a guy doing that."

" I take it you know of my virus then? "

" Yeah. T-2. Makes you all superhuman...ish. I thought you were going to murder me a minute ago."

" All this is really cool and all," Alexis piped up, " but if you're here, what happened to _our_ Seth? The five-year-old? "

" I don't know," Seth admitted, overwhelmed, " but...hey...still here, so I'm guessing my younger self is alright. You know, because if something really bad happened to him it would affect me and all." He shook his head again, trying to sort the many thoughts and questions running rampant through his mind. " Wow. So I really did go back in the past. But I'm still not clear on where we are. You two hang out in caves often? 'Cause it doesn't seem to me like you did."

" No." Alexis shook her head slowly, her eyes shifting to the small crawlspace leading out into daylight, " To put it in a nutshell, the Stars gang, including Alan and yours truly, decided to vacation on Majika Island. Admittingly, that probably wasn't my best idea. A freak storm blew up out nowhere and a weird flash of lighting caused us all to appear in different places on the island. Alan saved you --the younger you--and I from a pair of wolf things and we found this cave to weather out the storm. When we went to sleep, you were still a kid..."

" Wait a minute." Alan broke in, looking Seth up and down, " I did see a weird flash out of the corner of my eye just before I noticed there was someone new in the cave. A split fraction-of-a-second before that, I thought I heard Seth, _little_ Seth, start to say something."

" So you're saying that maybe our Seths switched places? " Alexis said, picking up his train of thought.

" There's no _maybe_ about it." Seth stated confidently, " Unless you can think of a better way it could have happened. If it's alright with you two though, I think I'm going to stick with the 'switching places' scenario right now, 'cuz it makes the most logical sense, and anything else would just give me a headache."

" You know, I would have to agree with that." Alexis said, noting that Seth was very cute. _Hey, he's not bad looking. Not as handsome as Alan, but Alan doesn't have that cute boyish look going for him. Seth just looks so cuddle-able!_

It was true. From a girl's perspective, Alan was devilishly handsome, but in a dangerous way. If you tried to snuggle him you just might end up with a broken jaw.

Seth was just cute and looked like the type you could just spill your heart out to with just about anything. Alexis was willing to be he would not have a hard time catching a date.

" What do you remember about us? " Alan asked, stifling back his comments about the way Alexis was eyeing his half-cousin over like candy.

Seth shrugged, walking over to the glowing embers of the fire and staring at them intently. " Not much. I'm losing memory faster than an Alzheimer's patient. I barely remember my own parents. Just basic things that I know to be true but can't explain why...it's almost like I have amnesia, but without me forgetting who I am. I know that Alan is my cousin and Alexis is the daughter of Alfred and Alexia. I can even remember why that's bad, and about the little stint my dad pulled with Alexia and the linear launcher. Oh, and my mother fought the Nemesis in Raccoon City. And your dad..." He pointed to Alan, " seriously, _seriously _hates my dad. With a passion. Funny, I can remember stories passed on to me from before I was born, but I can't remember what I did yesterday. Or even where I've _been _the past eleven to twelve years. It's weird. Like this in an episode of _The Twilight Zone_."

" Well, I guess we'll have plenty of time to figure it out later." Alan said, peering outside at the better weather, " Right now, who's with me for getting out of here and finding the others? "

" Me! " Alexis and Seth decreed in perfect unison.

Alan turned and lead the way out the narrow entrance. 

Alexis turned to Seth and smiled. " Look, I don't care how you got here, but it's great to have you with us! " She gave her friend a quick hug before turning to follow Alan.

Seth returned the smile. " Yeah. I guess if I had to be thrown back in time, this seems like one of my best choices." 

***********************************************************************

An aircraft rumbled in the distance, loud enough to draw the Redfield sibling's attention skyward. They'd been hiking on and off all night searching for the others and/or the jet, pausing only briefly for rest and short intervals of sleep. With legions of the undead on the loose, it just was not a good idea to stay put in one place for too long. You might end up zombie kibble. So hearing a jet fly by brought both relief and a worry. Maybe it was someone who could help them. Or maybe jet-thieves had stolen their only ride off this infernal island.

Chris sure hoped it was the former. What with all the luck he and his team had been having over the years, he often wondered if he had a karmic debt or something. It just seemed too uncanny that any one person could possibly have this bad of luck.

The gods were not kind to Chris Redfield. When he first glimpsed the sleek black airliner speeding towards the island, he felt relief. Not the Stars jet. If it were it would have the S.T.A.R.S. logo and be a silvery metallic gray. That was good. The gang's one sure ticket off the island was still safe.

The comforting sensation, however, was short-lived as recognition kicked in, and the curse of bad luck that had been mercilessly hounding the S.T.A.R.S. captain played it's cruelest joke yet. He knew this jet; the distinct shape, the glossy black exterior...it was the very same Alan had used to take them all on that little adventure in Africa. Which meant....

_Oh no. God no. Wesker! _Why did this guy have to be everywhere? Why couldn't he go off and do something to benefit mankind, say commit suicide? _Do I _have _a magnet in my head that attracts Wesker to me? _

Beside him, Claire reached the same conclusion. Her lower lip twitched and her face went slack with horror. " Chris, Wesker's...."

" I know. Maybe he'll pass on by? " _Yeah, and maybe I'll sprout wings and hover over the island._ Chris's mind chided. The jet was getting closer and closer, and, in fact, sinking lower in the sky. There was no question about it: he planned to land on Majika.

And that spelled doom for Chris and everyone else. They didn't even have their weapons! Well, Chris had an uzi, but what good would that do against Wesker? Seriously? The man could move faster than a lot of the cars that passed Chris on the freeway. While a bullet through the brain would kill him, Wesker was not going to be standing around and letting his enemies pull off a good shot. _Wesker and the T-2 virus versus me and an uzi. Now there's a very scary thought. I might as well kill myself and save him the trouble. We have to get out of here!_

" He's coming this way! See the bare ground we're standing on? We're in a clearing and it's the perfect place for him to land! " 

Chris looked down. Naturally, Claire was right. They were almost in the middle of a large clear patch of ground bordered on two sides by trees and jungle, one side by a tall and treacherous lava ridge, and one side the ocean. It was one of the few places on the island an aircraft could land. And they were standing right in the middle of it. Like idiots. He swore silently. Someone up there sure hated him a lot.

Crystal looked up, confused. She saw a jet flying overhead, but why were the adults acting like that was a bad thing? " Daddy? "

Her father barely noticed she was there at all. All he could think about was Wesker, and how grossly unfair any battles were going to be. Even worse, thanks to Alan enlightening them on the full extent of the T-2, both he and Claire knew that running was not going to do much good. With those amazing senses it would be relatively easy for Wesker to find them, regardless of where they went or how well they hid.

" Airplane! " Crystal declared proudly, blissful in her ignorance. She did not understand what the jet represented, or that it meant her life as well as the lives of her family and friends were in very real danger. She simply knew that it looked like Jay-Jay the jet plane, and like the craft her and the others had boarded to reach the island.

Chris scooped Crystal up in his arms in one hurried motion, his face ashen. " Come on! We'll hide in the jungle! " He galloped towards the lush greenery. The dense vegetation with it's bright and striking colors would help to conceal them, and the all the fragrant scents were sure to throw Wesker off their trail for at least a little while. Bird sang merrily in the canopy. Monkeys chattered. A small animal he thought to be either a rat or a squirrel scurried under the leafy protection of a large, vibrant fern. He ran faster.

Now the roar of the jet was almost deafening.

Crystal moved her mouth and said something, but her words were lost. Judging by her happy-go-lucky smile though, she was unafraid.

Must be nice. _Damn, we're not going to make it! _Wesker was too close and coming too fast. No way he could have missed them. He had almost made it to the tree-line when the familiar sensation of wrongness reared it's ugly head. Claire was not with him.

" Claire! " He turned on a dime and saw Claire rising from the ground, the victim of a hapless rock half submerged in the dirt. 

The timing could not have been worse. The jet landed not twenty feet behind her. 

************************************************************************

Alan noticed the jet flying in and was quick to identify it. His heart sank with the discovery. _Apparently we can be out stranded on a remote island and he'll still find us. Damn. _

" Isn't that your dad's jet? " Alexis asked with a look of concern. Wesker's arrival couldn't have been at a worst time: they were still on the island.

" Yes." Alan replied, straining his eyes to get a better look. " And it's landing! Oh boy, I have stop this! If he finds out that there's anyone else on this island....the others are in serious danger! "

The craft was coming down a ways off, towards the ocean. A distance of three miles, maybe, as the crow flies. There was no time to lose. He could _not_ let his dad hurt anyone. Period.

" Oh man, whenever Wesker goes to a party it's always to put a stop to it." Seth moaned, remembering some very scary facts about Wesker, " Alan, wh..." the rest of his words were lost, however, as Alan sped off; a blur of motion which quickly faded into the trees.

Seth smacked a palm to his forehead, shaking his head in frustration. He turned to Alexis. " He always does that, doesn't he? Rushes off and forgets that we don't happen to have rockets strapped to our feet."

Alexis nodded, worried. " Yep. That's our Alan. Come on, let's follow."

Seth raised an eyebrow, as if Alexis had just suggested they go jump off a cliff. " You're kidding, right? If he's going to Wesker, why exactly do we want to tag along and get killed? Not that we could catch up with him, anyway. "

" Because," Alexis replied, already bursting out in the direction Alan had went, " I have a feeling he may need our help."

" Ugh. _He_ may need _our_ help? You Ashfords are crazy, you do know that, right? " Seth quickened his pace and dashed after her until both of them were in an out-and-out run. He sided up with her and gave her a lopsided grin.

Alexis laughed, winking at him, " Yep. We are. Get killed by Wesker. That's the plan. Darn you, you have me all figured out! And here I was hoping I could trick you into not following me so I could die alone."

" Oh, no," Seth chuckled, skipping over a fallen log, " I'm far too clever."

************************************************************************

The door to the aircraft popped open and an all too familiar black-clad figure dropped down, a figure bearing a strong resemblance to Alan.

_Wesker._

Reacting on pure horror-driven instinct and worry for his sister's life, Chris set Crystal down. Actually, it was more of a drop; he couldn't be bothered with time-consuming extra care. He locked eyes with his daughter for a split second, his expression frantic and pleading. " Crystal! Run for the jungle, _now_! " He jabbed a finger in the direction of the ferns and trees, " Hide! " She needed a head start. She had to understand the importance of this, _had _to. 

At last it was occurring to the youngest Redfield that all was not well. Her face shifted, finally registering the worry. Her daddy was upset about something, and that made _her _upset. Even at her young age she could sense the urgency in his voice; the importance of what he was telling her to do. Without a word she turned and dashed off for the trees, her eye set on a rare gigantic flower known only to grow in the tropical climes that would easily hide a small child.

Chris started for Wesker. Claire was up and burning dirt now after Crystal, but it was no use. She would never be fast enough.

_So it ends. _This was it, this was finally it. Chris knew he was going to die. But he was going to do it fighting, defending those he loved with his last breath. It was a noble cause. He would matter_. Sacrificing yourself so that those you care about may live...that's not such a bad way to go_. His hands reached into the folds of his clothes and clenched tightly around the cold steel of the uzi. Maybe Wesker would knock it away from him, maybe not. In any case, he didn't have anything to lose by trying.

For a blessed moment, Wesker just stood there in front of his stylish jet--his sleek black clothes blending nicely with the color of the craft. His neat blonde hair was slightly ruffled, the perpetual aviators rested in their usual spot. At first he seemed surprised. Then a cold, merciless grin quickly slid across his smooth features.

He knew.

He knew there was no escape this time; his enemy would at last fall.

Chris prepared for the worst, bring his uzi fully up in an unusually fast arc and prepared to completely empty it on his old adversary. 

He was quick. Wesker was quicker. 

A blur of black--that was all Chris saw before his arm was tossed violently to the side and his weapon was flung from his hand.

All in the time it took to bat an eye.

Wesker grabbed him up roughly by the base of the neck and cast him to the side. _Easy as taking out the trash. _He mused silently, savoring the moment.

Chris landed fifty feet away; his flight coming to a painful end against the sharp lava-rocks off the ridge.

Now Claire was barely ten feet away from Wesker. It would be so easy to catch her and kill her. And that was exactly what he would have done, had not something else caught his eye at that very moment. His slitted pupils narrowed behind the shades, taking in the sight of little Crystal darting into the fauna. Behind a giant flower, to be more specific.

The innocent little lamb. The very thing Chris Redfield would fight to the death to protect. And die he would. Just not now. How much more preferable would it be to make him _wish_ he were dead? Emotional torture could be so much more fun than physical at times. 

Claire wasn't the prey he sought, no. It was _Crystal_. He was going to hit Chris where it hurt the most. 

Wesker zipped for the retreating girl as if he were being shot out of a gun.

Chris sprang up, ignoring his screaming muscles and bruised flesh. He realized at that last horrible moment what Wesker meant to do and ran to intercept him. Ran his hardest--faster than he had ever before. _I'll never make it in time! _Was pretty much the only thought on his mind, and sad to say he was right.

Wesker reached Crystal before even Claire had gotten within fifty feet of her. He grabbed the child up from her hiding spot by the nape of her neck and hoisted her to chest-height, holding her out like a prize catch.

Crystal squealed and cried out in pain. Fresh red blood dripped where his blunt yet powerful nails pierced the soft pink flesh of her neck in a deathgrip.

" Stop! " Wesker commanded, using the same authoritive, no-nonsense voice he had used in the past to quiet his team and kill arguments during the S.T.A.R.S. meetings back when he was captain. 

Chris and Claire froze in their tracks, seeing Crystal's plight and wisely obeying. Claire was only a little ways in front of her brother, despite Chris's being thrown and having to get back up. That spoke volumes by itself.

" Wesker," Chris pleaded, his voice hoarse and dry, " You don't want her. Take me instead...what went down between us, she had nothing to do with it. Please, if there's any shred of decency or honor left in you at all..." He trailed off, unsure of what else to say. It was hard to know how Wesker would react in any given scenario, and he didn't want to say the wrong thing.

Wesker paused a moment, as if considering. His sharp eyes allowed him to better savor the sheer terror and worry on the face of both brother and sister.

In the background, Spade was just starting to emerge from the jet. Only Wesker noticed her. 

His eyes then shifted from his own daughter to Chris's daughter. Crystal's now scraggly, ruddy-red hair was caked and clotted here and their with clumps of mud. So was her little pink _Girls Rule _shirt and shorts. She was missing a sandal.

Gingerly, almost lovingly, he turned her head slightly towards him, saw her glittering blue eyes. She struggled in his grasp, useless. " Leggo! You're hurting me! " She cried, tears streaming down her dirt-stained face. 

Wesker's smile broadened. " Oh, but that's the idea! " Swiftly, before anyone had time to so much as flinch, he took her head with his free hand and moved the other up along the base of her skull, at that very instant twisting savagely to one side. There was the satisfying snap of ripped cartilage and breaking bones.

She died instantly.


	11. Witches! Burn 'em at the Stake!

Chapter 11

**_Stratford, England, 1504 ( Renaissance )_**

Veronica slid down the smooth trunk of a tree, ripping off flakelets of a pale white bark in the process. In her hands she held a few fruits from this particular kind of tree, as well as some leaves and twigs.

" Perfect." She declared proudly, laying these in a straw-woven basket along with all the flowers, wild herbs, and berries she'd accumulated over the past hour. Now she stood in the midst of a wild thicket in the woods. The place was alive with wet, luscious grasses, trees of every description, and more bushes and brambles than she'd ever though existed. Not to mention all the colorful wildflowers and delightful little birds and animals which called these parts home.

It was beautiful. Nothing short of the word. 

With a flutter of wings, a thrush alighted on one of the topmost branches of the tree she'd just been in and began it's joyful little song. Veronica regarded it kindly, and with a warm smile.

" Why hello to you too, little thrush." She greeted, for she had always had a habit of speaking to animals even though she knew that they could not understand what she was saying. Her mother had told her never to do this around other people though, as they tended to view such actions as signs of mental illness.

Of course, thrushes do not understand French or any other language known to man, and this one was no exception. It stopped it's song to acknowledge the source of the noise; tilting and cocking it's head from side to side in swift, jerky movements, eyeing the young girl warily. 

Now that she was sure she had the bird's undivided attention, Veronica dug around through her herbs basket and retrieved a nice brown pinecone. One of the smaller varieties, it was one of which she and her mother sometimes used in incantations. She held it up high between her thumb and pointer finger, showing it to the bird.

" You want to see a magic trick, Mr. Thrush? " She asked cheerfully, totally oblivious to the fact that the bird watching her happened to be a female.

The bird cocked it's head, and Veronica took that as a 'yes'. " Watch."

Slowly, and with the outmost care, she parted her fingers, concentrating entirely on the task at hand. When no part of her hand was any longer touching any part of the pinecone, it still continued to float in the air; suspended by an unseen force. After a second it began to rise; drifting higher and higher into the air until it was almost eye-level with the bird.

" Is that impressive or what? " Veronica beamed, feeling very proud of herself. She twirled her finger slightly and the pinecone began to twist midair.

The thrush was unimpressed. It's thought processes were actually very simple, and if translated to a human tongue would go something like this: _The creature below me cannot fly. The creature below me is making no effort to climb up and get me. Pinecones are not predators._

In it's mind, the fact that pinecones were not usually found hovering in midair, that this shouldn't even be _possible_, did not register. Birds don't study physics. They can't appreciate magic when they see it. Bored, the thrush turned her head upwards, scanning the sky for hawks and other dangerous raptors. 

Veronica took a bow. " Thank you." She cut the trick and let the cone plummet to earth, " I've been working on that one for a long time."

Talking to animals went hand-in-hand with always assuming they thought the best of you--or at least it did in the case of Veronica Wells. Following the bird's gaze, she noted with concern the growing darkness and thick clouds which, though they still hung in the distance, were unmistakably heading this way. 

There would be a bad storm tonight. It would hit in about three hours, Veronica guessed. She shot a look around the thicket and shook her head. 

" It's been really great," She informed the thrush, who couldn't have cared less, " But it's getting dark now, and Mother will want me home. Also, the woods are dangerous at night with all kinds of wild animals that might want to eat me. I'm not even supposed to be here, really. Mother would be most cross. So I bid you farewell, my feathered forest friend, and I hope to see you again! " 

She spared a quick wave before gathering up the basket and heading home.

******************************************************

When Veronica reached her mother's tiny cottage, she was in for a surprise. The front door sttod ajar, and the house was alive with heavy footsteps and hasty ruffling. She heard chairs thrown aside violently and was nearly hit in the head by an oil lamp flung out the window.

_What's going on?! _Veronica's blue-violet eyes went wide with equal portions of alarm and concern. She dashed for the door, dropping the basket of herbs.

" Moth..." A hand clasped tightly over her mouth, silencing her. She looked up into the face of a young man she had never seen before. 

This stranger was in a hurry. He scooped Veronica up--it was not a hard feat, since she could not have weighed more than 65 pounds--and darted across the yard and off to the side behind a very large blackberry bush bordering one side of the house.

Veronica didn't dare to struggle, as the man holding her could very easily crush her, therefore it was probably not a good idea to make him mad.

Setting her down, the brown-haired man--he was wearing a simple tunic, betraying a low social status--pursed his lips and put a finger in front of them. " Shh. You are in danger. Stay low and do _not_ make a sound." His words came out in a rushed, urgent whisper. 

Thankfully it was French, so Veronica understood. 

Seeing that the man obviously had her best interest at heart, and seeing as how she didn't have a clue as to what was going on herself, she obeyed. With a curt nod she crouched low, flattening her stomach against the ground and grimacing in discomfort as a sharp thorn pricked her flesh. Still, she did not utter a sound.

This proved to be a very wise decision, as just then a man's voice bellowed, " Where _is_ she? Where is the witch's daughter, where is Veronica? " in a thick, heavy English. The owner of this voice was a gruff, short man around the age of thirty with long sideburns and lots of facial hair. He stepped out of the cottage with a sour expression on his face, and noticed the fallen basket.

Veronica could not see any of this because her face was practically in the dirt, but her benefactor did. He had found a peep-hole through the leaves of the bush and was watching nervously.

A quartet of men emerged from the dwelling; each clutching torches in one hand and various trinkets and personal belongings in the other. 

" Sir, there's no trace of her." A guy shivered, obviously spooked, " Perhaps she turned herself into some sort of animal and escaped." His eyes fell on the basket, and his worries were magnified. " How did that get there? "

The older guy, the one who had first spoken and who was plainly the leader of the group shook his head, a frown of suspicion forming. " I do not know. We have to be very careful; the witch was clever and tried to fool us. Her daughter, likewise, will try to trick us. She will pretend to be an innocent young woman. But do not let that fool you! They are servants of the devil."

" What doth that mean? " Another asked, pointing to the overturned basket.

Leader made a face of disgust. " It is ingredients for the witches' spells! No good can come of it. Quick! Someone burn it! "

A lean young man stepped forth and kissed the little straw basket with his torch. Setting it ablaze.

Leader nodded his approval. He turned to the men with an anxious gleam in his beady eyes. " Fan out, search the countryside--we must find the witch's daughter and burn her at the stake along with her wretched mother. If she escapes, it will be ill for us all. Witches are evil, vengeful creatures. We must make sure that she doth not live to seek revenge!"

At this a wave of fear swept the face of Veronica's savior.

Because she spoke very little English--and whenever she did try and speak it most people gave her funny looks or out and out laughed--Veronica did not understand much of what was being said. Two words she recognized for sure though were 'witch' and her name, and that was more than cause for alarm. There was no way that could be a good sign.

The stranger who had rescued her thrust his arms into the briars, ignoring the sharp prickles of pain, and parted the leaves to reveal a small natural tunnel leading through to the center of the bush.

" Get in! " He directed in a quiet, yet powerful whisper, " And once you are in, do not come out or you will be killed. Stay there and do not make a noise until I come for you, which will be after dark. I'll explain later. Understand? "

Veronica nodded to show that she did and crawled in among the leaves and thorns. It hurt, but it was a blessing compared to what she knew would await her if she refused. Though a bit strange, Veronica was not in the least stupid. She understood someone had found out about her and her mother being Wiccans, or, as these ignorant people put it, 'witches'.

Her mother had told her time and time again about what was in store for those who practiced 'witchcraft': about the terrible tortures and the painful deaths. Yet in spite of it all she had continued to do it; continued to concoct her herbal remedies and use what magic she had to heal the sick and bless the town. She had still continued to pray to Hecatate and other deities. And she had passed this tradition down to her offspring. 

All in the face of the superstitious times they lived in.

Indeed, Margaret was not evil. Just...different, and stubborn. She had devoted her life to this particular belief, knowing full well the consequences and yet choosing to ignore them. Choosing to keep her religion and spitting in the face of the very idea of being caught.

Part of Veronica hated her for that. Curling into the fetal position among a painful nest of thorns and smooshed blackberries, she shut her eyes tightly. Held back the stinging tears she wanted to cry. She was worried about her mother, but to shed a tear around these witch hunters would be fatal. She would have to wait quietly until either the stranger returned at night or her mother came for her. 

The man who had rescued Veronica emerged from behind the bush, knowing that the others might have heard a rustle and determined to protect the child within. He was meant with anxious eyes.

" Stilling! Where hast thee been? "Leader barked, his tone as friendly as a rabid dog's.

Veronica's rescuer--Stilling--shook his head. " I was just checking the area for the witch's daughter. I think she may have went into the forest." He replied in fluid English, nodding towards the woods.

Would the trick work?

Leader scratched his beard stubble, considering. The other men waited for his orders. Stilling held his breath.

" Hmm...I think thee may be right." He turned to the assembled men. " Gentlemen! Where is the most likely place to find a fleeing witch? The woods! Go forth and find her. Kill any suspicious animals thee may cometh across. One you find her, drag the demon back to town so she may die with her mother. Go! " He brought his hands together in a loud clap and the others moved out.

**************************************************

It was well into nightfall before Stilling arrived for Veronica. When he found her, she was shivering in the bush: wet cold, stiff, and scared. 

" It's alright." He cooed gently, " Come out now and I will take you to safety."

Veronica emerged--a shivering, shaking mess. Though it had been only hours, she felt as if she'd been there for days. She could barely see Stilling's shape outlined against the consuming darkness, let alone see the grim expression on his face. A few feet away, a horse neighed softly.

Slowly, she rose to her feet. Stilling wrapped her in a blanket and carried her over to his horse. 

" Wha...what happened to my mother? " Veronica coughed, an emotional wreck.

Stilling sat her gently in a little place he'd made for her --a kind of second saddle--close to the horse's rump. " I am sorry, Ms. Veronica, but your mother was tried, convicted of witchcraft, and burned at the stake. All this happened hours ago...long before the storm hit." His voice was sympathetic, understanding. " We must leave now and go far, far away from here. To stay would mean your death. We can start anew. I will care for you now."

He climbed into the saddle and spurred the horse to go. " My name is James by the way. James Stilling."

Tears dripped down Veronica's cheeks, disguised by the rain. " Not that I am not grateful beyond words, but I...I don't understand something. Do you think I am a witch? " Her voice came out small and weak.

" No." James said flatly, " I don't believe in witches. Any little bad thing that happens that can't be explained, people blame it all on 'witches'. They are afraid of the inexplicable. Witchcraft is their way of explaining the unknown. And it's not fair to the innocent people who get caught up in and killed in these messes." 

The horse broke into a gallop along a dirt path out of town. Fortunately it was night, and a stormy one at the night. No one traveled in conditions like this. They would be able to escape town unobserved.


	12. Anguish of Karma

__

****

Chapter 12

" So, you were an only child then? " Alexandra asked conversationally, leaning back into the comfy easy-chair Veronica had conjured up for her. Sultan rested at her feet, much calmer now. Eyes half closed, he looked ready to fall asleep any moment.

" Yes." Veronica replied. They were back in the tower room with the large window that overlooked a now tranquil sea. Over the night Veronica's powers had built up substantially, and now she felt refreshed, renewed. And thankfully, there was no unwanted company.

In fact, the first thing she had done upon daybreak was to stir the other Ashfords and start them off cleaning. True, she did not require their services. But it kept them out of her hair for the time being, which counted for a lot because she found them to be a most unsavory bunch.

Now she lay lengthwise on the sofa, twirling a black rose around playfully in her fingers. There were more important things she could be doing. Things she should be doing. But what the heck, they could just wait. She was finally getting a chance to relax for a change.

__

Besides, she had already conjured up a whole host of the most terrifying creatures she could dream up to guard the island. Any trespassers were going to be in for the surprise of their lives! That should keep Discord busy for awhile.

Or would it? Was it even Discord she was dealing with?

__

It would about have to be...nobody else could afflict me like this. Ever since her freedom, she'd been wracked every so often by unexpected waves of pain and nausea. Not to mention the frequent headaches. This was not normal. Her immune system was impregnable, her healing powers miraculous. In short, she was pretty close to invincible.

Whoever was doing this to her must be quite powerful indeed.

It was for this very reason she should be out surveying the island. Searching for this person. Check things out, see how the creatures were faring. Instead she was spilling her heart out to young Alexandra.

_Oh well._

Veronica closed her hand around the black rose and transformed it into a red iris. Who cared if she was wasting time; it felt so good to have someone who didn't hate her guts to talk to after a long imprisonment.

After all, Veronica had a difficult time making friends. A lot of people could just not get past the whole sorceress deal. The ones that did were usually after something.

" How was it that you got into magic? " The ever-curious Alexandra wanted to know. She reached down and scratched behind Sultan's big, furry ears.

The tiger squeezed his eyes shut tightly and would have purred in comfort if not for the fact that tigers--like all other big cats--were incapable of purring. Instead he gave a content 'chuff'.

" Magic? " Veronica almost laughed. She'd practically been born with it! " Well you see, I was born to a Wiccan. My mother taught me some of my earliest spells and tricks. Would you be interested in learning a few for yourself? "

Just as she'd suspected, her blonde-haired descendant was all too eager. " Oh yes please! That would be great! "

Veronica stood up and stretched. " Alrighty then. I can teach you some neat tricks great for novice magic users." She stopped, eyes paused over Sultan. The tiger cub looked her way. " Hey there, kitty! " She purred in gentle, babyish tones.

Alexandra wasn't quite sure what to think of that. Sometimes her ancestor seemed almost sane. Other times she was a total fruitcake complete with the whipped cream topping.

Sultan's tail twitched merrily, and his emerald eyes shone with life. " Mrroowf? "

" Lovely cat! " Veronica chirped gleefully, " He needs a collar." She pointed at the cub's fluffy orange and black neck and as quickly as that a collar appeared.

And not your average plain-strap collar either..

Solid gold on the outside with a silver inside and silver trim, the collar itself was circular in shape except for the front where it dipped into an elegant well-shaped 'V'. The bottom of this 'V', where the two ends met, was inlaid with a shimmering red diamond streaked all over with black so that the overall luster was a dazzling midnight-red. Surrounding this rare gem were emblazoned red and orange flames licking up the sides of the 'V'. Past that were flawless octagon cuts of sapphires, garnets, emeralds, and obsidian spanning the rest of the length. Though it appeared that such a collar should be heavy, it was surprisingly lightweight and Sultan carried it with ease.

It was one of the most gorgeous things Alexandra had ever seen, and that was saying a lot since she'd seen some pretty exquisite things being part of the insanely rich Ashford family. On the market a collar like that would be worth well over a hundred thousand dollars.

Not that it mattered to Veronica. When you were capable of creating matter out of thin air money ceased to be a big deal. A hundred dollar bill? So what. Might as well be a gum wrapper.

__

Sultan stretched out in true cat-fashion and opened his mouth wide; a big, toothy yawn. He didn't seem to notice the fancy new collar decorating his neck. Paying it no heed, he padded over to a corner of the room and slumped into a loose ball, watching.

Both Ashfords watched him go, then Veronica turned to Alexandra. Time to get the ball rolling. " Right. The magic lesson. Now before we begin, there's something I should explain. Any type of magic requires accumulation of mystical energies. Most novice magic users achieve this by praying to gods and other magical entities. It's a long process that involves rituals, blood sacrifice, and unshakable faith. You also sort of have to have a knack for it, and lots, and I mean _lots,_ of patience. It can take years." To Alexandra's forlorn look, she added, " However, since we want to start out more nowish, I shall endow you with a tiny fraction of my power to work with. That way we can skip all the rigamarole." Her eyelids fluttered shut and she held one palm straight out.

As Alexandra looked on, fascinated, a gold-chain necklace sporting a large ornate black diamond appeared in the sorceress's hand.

Veronica opened her eyes and approached the younger girl.

" What's that for? " Alexandra asked.

" For you, Silly! " Veronica chuckled good-naturedly. She slipped the necklace around her descendant's neck.

The very second it was in place, Alexandra felt an electrifying surge rise inside her body; racing through her veins like lightning. The power! The sheer raw force of energy! Suddenly every sense was a fine-tuned live wire of awareness! Never before had she felt so rejuvenated, so..._juiced_. Like she could run ten miles without breaking a sweat. _Whoa, is this how she feels? Is it even close?_

No wonder Veronica was so haughty! If Alexandra felt this way with only a sliver of power, Veronica must feel ready to rule the world!

" Does this necklace hold your magic? "

Veronica shook her head. _These newbies. Always so materialistic. _" No. What power I gave you now rests within your body, tied to your essence. I could have enchanted the necklace if I wanted, but I figured you'd rather have power that couldn't be taken away and given to someone else so easily. The necklace is just a good luck charm from little 'ol me. Call it a gift." She gave her relative a friendly wink.

" Oh, thank you! " Alexandra returned, thrilled, " Is this going to be like a Hogwarts lesson then? "

Veronica arched an eyebrow, confused. _Hogwarts? _She searched her internet knowledge and quickly came up with the answer. " Hogwarts? Heh, you've been reading Harry Potter, I see. Actually, yes. The first trick I want to teach you is very similar." She paused to lick her lips, a faraway glean in her eye. " Levitation." Oh yes, she could remember all too vividly the loads of fun she'd had learning _that_ one. It was a very basic trick, but for some people levitating so much as a pine cone was as challenging as trying to move mountains.

However, Alexandra was an apt pupil, and Veronica had faith that she would be easy to train. Besides, she'd already given her the necessary magic-boost--that was half the battle right there. She backed away a few feet and held her right hand palm up. A small white marble appeared in it.

__

" We'll start with something small at first. Concentrate on the marble."

Alexandra did as instructed and fixed her eyes on the object, giving it her full attention.

Veronica nodded her approval. " Very good. Now picture an invisible hand grabbing the marble and lifting it slowly...slowly...."

It didn't work. For all her efforts, Alexandra could not so much as budge the object.

" What's wrong? " Veronica asked, a little irritated.

Alexandra shook her head. " I do not know. I'm doing just what you said and nothing's happening."

Perhaps she wasn't trying hard enough? She focused harder--blotting out all but the objective from her mind--and still the marble sat there, mocking her with it's lack of motion. Evil marble.

" Okay, this isn't working. Why don't we tryiiiyiiyiii! " Veronica's last word was maimed as she unexpectedly shot straight up through the air like a rocket and hit her head against the ceiling. Now she was stuck there; back pressed against stone, looking down on Alexandra. " Yup, that's the 'ol levitator! " She said with a phony smile.

" Oh, I'm terribly sorry! " Alexandra gushed.

Veronica fell to the floor, landed on her stomach with an unceremonious 'Oomph! '. She gazed up at her apprentice and tapped the digits of one hand against the floor in the classic gesture of annoyance.

" You were focusing on me instead of the marble, weren't you? "

Alexandra's guilty chuckle betrayed her. " No...I mean, maybe...maybe as in just a little....I'm so sorry! Are you hurt? "

Veronica rose to her feet and dusted herself off. Not that there was anything to dust: the castle was kept very clean. " Only my dignity. Not many first-timers can lift something as heavy as me on their first try. You are very good for a beginner."

" I am? "

Veronica nodded and gave a thumbs-up, winking one eye in the process. " Yup! Now if you'll excuse me, I'd like to rest up a bit before the next session. I just remembered some journals I've been meaning to read." She went over and literally _threw _herself at the couch.

It was a good thing she didn't weigh very much.

Once she was on, she wriggled and squirmed like a worm in a mud pit until she was comfortable. " Ah. Much better." She snapped her fingers and a collection of journals appeared on her lap. There were no less than seven, and they ranged in color, size, design, and age. Some of the covers bore the Ashford family crest: the dreaded hawk grasping the halberd.

Curious, Alexandra came over and sat next to her great great great great grandmother. " These look like my...I mean,_ our _family's journals."

Veronica smiled and gave her a quick pat on the head. " Exactamundo. I've been out of the game a long time, remember? I want to see what happened to my son and his descendants. Poor kid. When I vanished, that Idabel no doubt stepped in to take my place." Veronica wrinkled her nose and made a face, " Or, as she insisted everyone call her, _I_-dah! " This she pronounced in high-pitched, mocking tones, " On second thought, maybe I _don't_ want to know how Stanley turned out with that old bat raising him. Gah, that woman was so annoying. I should have turned her into a seagull so she could go whine to the sailors."

Veronica ran a hand over the aged leather of the first journal. Then she flipped open to the first page where the name '_Stanley Ashford' _could just be seen under the bold words _'This Journal Belongs To:_'

With a casual flick of her wrist Veronica magicked a silver platter of chocolate covered cherries to fill the space between her and Alexandra.

" You care for a cherry? " She asked, popping one into her mouth.

" Sure. Thank you." Alexandra reached over and helped herself. She noticed that Veronica was reading, and the question she'd been meaning to ask a long time now resurfaced to irritate her. She _had _to ask.

" So, Stanley was your son. Did you have any other children? "

Veronica looked up from her reading. A wild flash of something dangerous glinted in her eye, and for a moment Alexandra was afraid she'd hit upon a touchy subject.

" Yes." Veronica replied with a bit of a growl. She held up four fingers. " _Four_. I had four children altogether. Two sons, two daughters. The daughters were twin sisters." She reached for another cherry, her expression angry and bitter. " I'd rather not talk about it. It...it didn't turn out well."

" Sorry." If there was one thing Alexandra didn't want to do, it was press for forbidden information. Of course, this led to some speculation on her part about what had happened to the other children. Perhaps they had died. _Or worse. _She really didn't want to imagine the worse part. Lord knew she'd already seen enough misery in her short-but-eventful life.

Veronica was reading again now, and it probably wouldn't be a good idea to disturb her. The sorceress could get moody at times_. I'll just sit here and wait patiently until she's ready to start the lessons again. Or maybe that will be it for the day. Doesn't really matter. I'd rather be up here keeping her company than down there listening to my family whine and curse her out. Mother is probably most cross. She will not want to see me._

It was true. Alexia had low patience where her offspring were concerned. Whenever she was in a good mood, all went smoothly, but when she had a bad day, _everyone_ had a bad day. The whole household would fly into chaos, with her barking and snapping at anyone who so much as forgot to shut a cupboard door. And if the tongue lashings weren't bad enough, her mother was not above hitting anyone any time it struck her fancy. She was really quite rough in the way she treated people. Alexandra was constantly having to watch her P's and Q's.

Veronica noticed a folded parchment jutting out slightly from near the back of her son's diary. _Hello, what's this? _She took the musty old paper out, unfolded it carefully, and let out a horrified shriek.

Alexandra turned instantly. " What? What is it? "

" Oh, Eeew! " Veronica held the paper up so she could get a good look.

This 'paper' turned out to be a portrait. A slightly-chubby, brown-haired woman wearing an old-fashioned pink dress and sitting on a chair holding a gold-plated teacup was rendered lovingly in faded oils. Alexandra would recognize this portrait anywhere. The above inscription proudly declared: _'Veronica Ashford.'_

" Why, that's you! "

" Does it _look _like me?! "

" Well...no. Not really." Alexandra was forced to confess. The sorceress sitting next to her was younger, thinner, and vastly more beautiful than the woman in the portrait could ever hope to be. No wonder she was upset.

Veronica flipped the picture back around and studied it more, her grimace growing deeper with each passing second. " No....no...this is all wrong. That _can't_ be me. There's been some horrible mistake. First of all, where did some idiot get that I had brown hair? I've _always_ been a redhead! The face is too pudgy. I wouldn't be caught dead in that barf-O dress, and _yech_! Who smiles _that_ stupidly? Honestly. I wasn't _ecstatic_ about getting the Friggen teacup! " She dropped the portrait in disgust. " Is this really how people thought I looked? Because if I would've known that, I would have broken out of the teacup sooner. Who drew this? I want to murder them! This isn't me. This is some fat ugly cow wearing a file 13 ball dress. Gag me with a spoon! "

She glared daggers at the offensive portrait and it shriveled up into nothingness. Then she shook her head, still in a state of disbelief. " That's not funny. Who thought I looked like that? And how many copies of that farce are floating around? "

Alexandra laughed softly; the look on Veronica's face was just so priceless! " Um...I hate to say it, but there are tons of pictures just like it hanging in every mansion we own."

Veronica's jaw dropped. This couldn't be! This had to be some kind of sick joke. " Oh lord! " She whined, slapping a hand to her cheek, " What did I ever do to them? You know what? I bet this is Idabel's doing. She always was jealous of me for my looks and wealth. I'll bet she bent the truth on purpose. Gees, some of the notes I've read so far from my great-great grandchildren say my beauty was legendary, but after looking at _that_ travesty, I'm not sure how they can say that. Ugh! Idabell's lucky she's dead now, or she'd have some explaining to do! "

-------------------------------------

This can't be happening. Ash thought, polishing a mirror in one of the grand bathrooms of '_Castle Ashford'_, as that ditzy sorceress liked to call it. This should not be happening. Ashfords did not do housework; that was for the maids and servants to worry about. Not the noble and proud _Ashford_ family! It was humiliating.

__

No, Ash decided as he glided the red and gold cloth over the smooth, reflective surface, _it's downright cruel. Where does she get off bursting in, teleporting us all the way to her stupid little island and making us her servants? It's pointless! Bloody bint could just clean this all with a flick of her finger. She doesn't even need us! Stupid witch._

When you got right down to it, what was the difference between a sorceress and a witch anyway? Other than the fact that one was usually depicted as being prettier than the other. It didn't matter. They were both the same in Ash's eyes. And right now, he could think of another name to call Veronica which rhymed perfectly with 'witch'.

Behind him, and a little off to his right, Alexia dutifully swept the stone floor with an old-fashioned broom that could barely push the dirt around. It looked rather odd; a woman as well-dressed and aristocratic as her cleaning a bathroom. Like one of those _'Circle ten things wrong with this picture' _activities that ran under the kiddies' section of the Sunday paper. Her eyes were downcast, her thoughts dark and murderous.

All was silent for a moment as mother and son grudgingly went about doing things they'd only had nightmares about before. Then serene silence was broken by an audible _flush_ followed by swiftly by, " Damn toilet! Now I lost my toothbrush! It's ridiculous how powerful a flush these things have."

A highly agitated Alfred emerged from a stall. " This is positively absurd. I don't think they even _had_ toilets back in the Renaissance where that ditzy redhead hails from. And even if they did, I'd be willing to bet every penny I own they didn't _clean them with their toothbrushes!_ "

At this, both Ash and Alexia stopped what they were doing and laughed.

" What's the matter, Dad? " Ash jibed, " The old latrine get the best of ya? " It didn't look like he was going to be getting much joy the way things were running now, so he'd best take pleasure where he could. He'd always had a rebellious streak in him anyway where his father was concerned. Not that the sister-loving pansy ever did anything about it.

" No! " Alfred huffed with as much dignity as he could muster--which, suffice to say, wasn't much--" I was polishing the handle and I accidentally pressed too hard. I was so surprised by the sudden movement I dropped the toothbrush and it was gone quicker than a twinkie at Weight Watchers."

Alexia shook her head in amusement, but the feeling soon passed. She looked at the broom she held in her hand and scowled. This thing was undoubtedly as old as Veronica herself. No way was she going to be making any real progress with it. The over-sized bristles let all but the most behemoth of dirt particles slide by. What a waste of time.

" This is all very ridiculous," She groused, " Had I known that teacup contained a deranged sorceress bent on making our lives miserable, I would have gotten rid of it years ago! " Frustrated, she let the broom fall to the floor. She needed to think of a plan, and quickly. Before Veronica got any ideas about making her the French Maid permanently. _But what to do? _For once in her life, Alexia didn't have the answer. All she knew about her ancestor's weaknesses was that it involved some entity named Discord, who was presumably a powerful magic-user herself. But how to get into contact with such a person? There was no way she was going to be able to leave without Veronica noticing.

Ash tossed his cloth into a beautifully polished white marble sink which seemed to be of too high a class to be found in an old castle. Feeling bored, and wanting a little break from chores, he retrieved his mother's broom and held it bristle-end back like a sword. Time for a little fun.

" _En Guarde! _" He made a jab for Alfred with the tip, who quickly recoiled and snatched the mop that was propped against a nearby stall.

" So that's the way you want it then? " Alfred smirked in a way of challenging, " I shall show you what true swordsmanship is all about, arrogant amateur! " He wielded his cleaning tool in the same style as Ash--with the soft mop-end swept back and the wooden handle pointed at his son.

With a taunting smile, Ash began circling his father, like a well-trained swordsman waiting to get in the first strike.

Alfred was not impressed. " You think you're being clever, don't you? " He lashed out with the mop-handle.

Wood splintered against wood as Ash blocked the blow. " Come on, Father." He sneered, a wicked grin on his face, " Let's see if you're truly a sissy, or if you just dress like one! " He twirled back and struck again.

With an indignant snort, Alfred parried this blow, and soon the two were dancing around the bathroom in a frenzy; engaged in their mock-duel. Thrust. Parry. Thrust. Parry. Thrust. The sharp report of stick striking stick echoed off the gray stone walls.

" You call this serious fencing? " Alfred scoffed, twirling away from Ash's 'sword' in a surprisingly graceful manner.

Ash did not reply. Instead, he jumped straight up. A mop-handle sailed harmlessly under his feet. _Perfect. _When he landed, he used Alfred's momentary distraction to attack.

" Yeow! You rotten little...you're going to pay for that! " Alfred hissed after Ash's weapon collided with his right shoulder. Thankfully, it was not a real sword, so there was no serious damage done. Still, that was going to leave a mark. He had clearly underestimated his son. Wanker obviously knew more about fencing and swordsmanship than he wanted to admit.

Ash grinned widely, pleased with himself. " Then send me the bill. "

Alfred felt his blood boil. How dare that insolent brat speak to him that way! _I'll teach him a lesson!_ He charged forward, mop-handle held out in front like a lance in one of those old medieval jousts.

Ash dived aside in the nick of time, and now Alfred was only moments away from spearing Alexia! _Uh-oh. _He came to a grinding halt, the mop-handle inches away from his twin's breast.

Alexia shot him a glare that would make the devil cringe, causing Alfred to shrink. " S....sorry Alexia, I..."

She didn't wait for him to finish. She was having a bad day, and when Alexia Ashford had a bad day, _everyone_ had a bad day. With one hand she reached out and grabbed the handle. The wood splintered and cracked in her grasp. She yanked it out of Alfred's hands so fast it gave him a burn.

" Yee! " Alfred winced, examining his now-reddened palms.

Alexia snapped the stick in half. " What are you fools doing? We should be worrying about Veronica! "

Ash dropped the broom as quickly as if it had transmogrified into a live cobra and studied his mother attentively, suddenly all serious.

Alfred backed away slowly, shamed. " Well Alexia...Sister...you said _you_ were thinking of a plan so I..."

" Assumed it would be okay to engage in frivolous horseplay? " Alexia finished, giving him the look she usually only reserved for people she intended to kill.

Finding himself unable to meet her glacial gaze, Alfred cast his eyes to the side and watched his son.

Ash crossed his arms, a smug smile fixed on his fine-featured face.

_He's enjoying every second of this! _Alfred's thoughts raged. His lower lip curled up in the faintest hint of a snarl.

Alexia unconsciously brought her hand up to her forehead. _Why bother? _Over the years she had begun to get used to the constant rivalry between Alfred and Ash. The two seemed to bicker and fight over everything. Mostly, they struggled over her affections. Which was perfectly acceptable, but there were times when it was all just a big bother.

" Fine." She announced matter-of-factly, " But don't come crying to me when Veronica turns you both into neutered housecats." She dropped the mop-halves. Let them fall to the floor.

Ash swallowed nervously. He had a very funny look on his face. " Housecats? " His voice came out in a meek, high-pitched squeak.

" Neutered? " Alfred repeated, horrified.

Alexia laughed, a genuine--_oh that's really funny!_--laugh as opposed to the usual evil chuckle. " You should see the looks on your faces! "

Alfred peered into the nearest mirror, and quickly regained a more noble, regal posture.

Ash was too busy fretting over Alexia's words. _A neutered housecat...that would not be fun. _" She can't do that, can she? " He cast his eyes up, fixing her with an expectant stare.

" At this point I am thinking yes. Unfortunately for us, Veronica is quite powerful. Do either of you have an intelligent idea as to how we may contact Discord? "

Alfred shook his head. Alexia was the genius, not him. He was the devoted brother who aided her and perfected the arts of killing and torturing. Despite his fascination with the army, he was not that good a strategist. He had always been more the shoot-first-ask-questions-later type of guy.

Once a year or so back an employee had joked that he probably wouldn't be able to brush his hair unless Alexia gave the go-ahead. The man had though Alfred was out of earshot. He was sadly mistaken. The rude man had had a fatal appointment with the guillotine the very next day.

After, of course, Alfred had cut out the offensive tongue and poured searing live coals down his throat. You didn't mess with an Ashford.

" Hmmm..." Ash was thoughtful, " Maybe we could ask Alexandra to observe Veronica? Scope out her weaknesses, get the scoop on Discord? After all, she's the favorite. Little Miss Fluff Puff that can do no wrong."

" Alexandra." Alexia rested her back against the course gray stone of the wall. Though her eyes were turned on the male Ashfords, she wasn't really focusing on them. " Veronica said there was something special about her." And what could that be? _She said she was pure...pure what? Pure good? Pureblooded? Pure for some magical rite? _ The list went on and on. Curse Veronica's vagueness.

" You can't really read too much into that though." Alfred offered jumping up to sit on a sink. It didn't even cross his mind that his weight may be enough to drop the fixture from the wall. The sink moaned under the stress. " After all, Veronica's a little...unhinged."

" So are you! " Ash shot, " And people still listen to what _you _say, even when you're wearing a dress and using that girly voice! " He snapped the fingers of the hand that wasn't wearing the perpetual blue glove. Inspiration! " Hey, ever though of changing your name to Alfrexia? I'm actually surprised you haven't done that already..."

" But I'm a guy! " Alfred growled, giving Ash a severe look, " And I'll have you know that I gave up the cross-dressing." His tone softened, and he added, a bit sheepishly, " Alexia said it was most unbecoming. She said she was born with a twin _brother_ not a sister." 

From her corner of the room, Alexia snickered quietly.

" You could change that, you know." Ash went on mockingly, " They have these operations that..."

" I've heard enough of this! " Alfred bellowed, so loud Alexia was sure Veronica must have heard, " I am _not_ a female. I _don't want to be_ a female. Though I'm starting to think _you_ might! "

" Fun as it is to watch you boys argue over who's more manly," Alexia cut in, " We still have that Veronica problem. Ash, what was it that you were suggesting for Alexandra again? "

Ash shrugged, but did not take his venomous gaze of his father. " I don't know...maybe she could be a spy? She's so disgustingly nice, and like I said, she's Veronica's favorite."

Alexia thought about this a moment. Alexandra was young and very innocent. That made her gullible and very easy to manipulate. The recipe for success. " You may be on to something there, Ash. Veronica is far more likely to trust her than any of us. Funny, I never would have thought her being good natured could be so useful. But when you think about it, it's the perfect disguise for a spy! "

Alfred was skeptical. " Do you think she'll do it though? I mean, Alexandra is very loyal to those she deems friends. She doesn't strike me as a double-crosser."

At this, Alexia stiffened--an angry, hateful look manifesting itself into her smooth features. Her eyes blazed with blue fire. " Alexandra will do exactly what I tell her to." She snapped, and her voice was so powerful, so _sure_.

" Sure. My apologies." Alfred agreed. What else could he say? In this family it was a crime to verbally disagree with Alexia.

Tiny thin lines were already starting to spiderweb across where porcelain met stone. The wall was slowly giving way. None of the family seemed to notice. Certainly not Alfred, the one in danger of a fall. As if to mock the crumbling wall, he shifted his weight on the sink--squirming to a more comfortable position.

There. Much better. The wall creaked it's disapproval.

Ash spoke up. " You know, maybe it would..." That was as far as he got.

There was a brilliant cobalt flash, and the next thing any of them knew they were standing in a wide stone room. Not just any room, but a room completely devoid of carpet, furniture, or any other distinguishing features. Not even a window. It was completely barren, save two sets of solid metal chains hanging on the wall just behind a highly P.O.'d Veronica.

_Damn, what have we done?! _Alfred worried, and he had every right to be that way.

The sorceress was entirely aglow in an unsettling blood-red aura of magic. Her flaming red hair drifted in an unfelt breeze, and her pupil-less eyes blazed pure red with hellfire. She stood in the center of the room defiantly with her legs stretched slightly apart and her hands placed firmly on her hips. Those garnet red lips were parted in a fierce snarl. There was no question about it: here was a brassed off sorceress.

" What is it, Mistress Veronica? " Alexia tried her best not to show her surprise, or, more importantly, her fear.

" How dare you? How _dare_ you?! " Veronica roared, " I can't believe you would have the audacity to soil my name with your misdeeds! "

" What did we do? " Alfred squeaked, reminding Veronica of a scared mouse.

" Um...did I miss something? " Ash said around the same time, " We were down there cleaning the bathrooms just like you asked, oh mighty Merlinette." He considered making an exaggerated bowing gesture; thought better of it. There was just no telling what the red-headed magic-doer was going to take as an insult. For some reason, he was struck with the image of being a neutered male cat. _Best to play it safe_.

Veronica turned on him, and for one horrible instant Ash thought she had read his mind and was going to go through with the terrible deed. " You may go now, Ash. Get back to whatever you were doing. This does not concern you."

Ash had never felt as much relieved in his life as he did when he heard Veronica say those words. _This doesn't concern me? Great! I'm outta here before it does! _Whatever happened to his parents happened. Naturally, he wished the best, but there was no way he was risking his neck. Off the hook, he turned and bolted out the open door. It slammed shut behind him as if it had a mind of it's own.

_Why that ungrateful little weasel! _Alfred fumed silently, _He was supposed to be on our side! How dare he just abandon us, we're his own parents!_ But deep down a part of him knew and understood. If it were _his_ father in danger, Alfred probably would have helped Veronica with torture ideas. So he had no place to talk. At least Ash was slightly better than that.

**_Let those without sin cast the first stone...._**Alfred shook his head, forgetting Veronica for the briefest of moments. _There it is again, that voice! What is it? How do I make it stop_? He'd always had that small yet nagging voice, but for many years it had gone almost silent. Now it was back, and louder and more persistent than ever before.

The Voice.

_The voice that tries to make me feel bad for the things I have done. _Veronica cocked her head to one side. " I've been doing a little reading, Ashford twins. I now know that it was Alexander Ashford, your father, who had been captivated by me. He came very close to freeing me." She froze for a moment, the clueless teenager visage returning. " Of course," She said, her tone much softer now, " He'd always thought I was telling him the secrets of the universe when in fact what I was trying to say went more along the lines of: _'Break the teacup. Break it!' _" She shook her head sadly. " Poor misguided soul....What was I talking about again? " She brought a finger up and rested it along the bridge of her nose, as if that would somehow help her to remember.

Neither Ashford twin offered a reply. They didn't want to remind her, but at the same time the prospect of being caught in a lie seemed too high a gamble.

I fear I know where she is going with this. Alexia told her brother via telepathy, I hate to say it, but we are royally screwed.

Maybe she'll forget! Alfred suggested with phony enthusiasm. He did not for a second believe it.

For perhaps the first time in her life, Alexia's expression was saddened. I wish I knew what to do. She whispered softly inside Alfred's head.

They both knew that running would be futile. And fighting would be a joke. Though Alexia would rather go out fighting if she had to go out, it would be wise to first listen to what Veronica had to say. Perhaps things were not as bad as they seemed. Perhaps she could be reasoned with.

It took a minute, but Veronica's lost, dopey image was dropped, and the angry one rekindled. " _You! _" She raged, pointing two fingers of one hand at Alfred and Alexia, " You killed my chance at escaping sooner! For that you will suffer! "

Though his eyes remained fixed on their enraged ancestor, Alfred's words went to his sister. I don't suppose now would be a good time to bring up '_it all depends on your point of view'?_ To Veronica, he said, " Well, not _technically_. Claire Redfield was the one that..."

" I am not interested in your excuses! " Veronica hissed, " You two never got one spanking your whole lives, did you? "

" Nope." Alfred admitted.

" No." Alexia confessed.

Veronica sighed, and an infliction of what just might be remorse filtered through the action. " No wonder you turned out to be such stinkers. Back in my time we had a thing called discipline. Since you've never heard of it, I'll be happy to introduce you! "

" What the..." Alfred stopped as both he and a startled Alexia were sent flying. They collided back-first against the wall--spread-eagled.

_Chink-chink-chink-chink! Chink-chink-chink-chink!_

Heavy metal alloy cuffs bit into their wrists and ankles. The adjoining chains slurped back into the wall--right through solid stone--until they were taught and held their blonde victims firmly to the cold stone; leaving their feet a good twenty-four inches above the floor.

" Hey! What are you going to do to us?! " Alfred cried, and Veronica ignored the small pleading look he sent her way.

" Why, torture you, of course. What, you thought I got to be the most badass sorceress of my day by throwing tea parties and hosting weddings? I'm not all peaches and strawberries, you know. I can be cruel." Her eyes seemed to glow even more, if that were possible, " _Very _cruel."

" Torture? " Alfred's voice was a stranger's. It didn't sound like the terror of Rockfort who had said the word, but rather a lost, frightened little boy. His eyes went wide.

**_Yes, it's not so fun when you're the one screaming, is it? _**The Voice mocked. He struggled against the chains, but it was no use. His hands were now high above his head and his feet far below. He couldn't so much as twitch a wrist, and the wicked cuff bit painfully deep. No doubt it was constricting his blood flow.

What are we going to do? Thankfully, he was still able to twist his head to look in Alexia's direction. She hung from his left, but from his perspective it was the right. He waited for her to say something--perhaps defy Veronica--but she was strangely silent.

When she at last looked up her eyes burned with the purest, undiluted hatred from the depths of Hell.

Alfred turned away, afraid to look at her. He was upset with Veronica too, but at the moment he was _much_ more worried about what was going to happen to them.

Veronica rubbed her hands together eagerly, sending sparks of magic flying. " So it begins! " Her hands shot straight up, tendrils of green energy crackling around every fingertip. " Let there be monster! " She commanded in a bold, overly-exaggerated voice.

There was a flash of brilliance, and when it cleared both Ashford twins gasped, utterly shocked.

There, standing before them in the center of the room, in all his green and tentacled glory, stood Nosferatu. There could be no mistaking him. His skin was the same mottled, sickly green color as it had been that fateful day back in Antarctica. Thick tentacles protruded from his beefy shoulders and whipped this way and that. Just as before, the only garments he wore were a heavy-duty skirt-like thing that went almost to his knees, and a dirty blindfold over his eyes that appeared to have been there for many years. Every detail was correct: even down to the overly-exposed monstrous heart in the center of his chest and the emerald pierce which dangled from his disfigured left earlobe.

For a moment he seemed confused; swaying to and fro as if awakening from a trance. Then, with an earsplitting scream that was half howl and half roar, he turned to face his treacherous offspring.

Alexia responded by giving him a dirty look. Not that the ugly behemoth could see anyway.

Alfred's reaction was quite different. He whined softly and squeezed his eyes shut, as if that would somehow make the hideous abomination disappear. " It...can't be. He died."

Veronica took one look at the mutation she'd created and wrinkled her nose in disgust. " That's disgusting. And people say _I_ have issues. Tell me, is that the result of your T-Veronica virus? " She shot Alexia a queer look.

Alexia did not answer, but instead gazed straight on ahead and seemed to be staring at nothing in particular.

Veronica took that as a 'yes'. " My lord, how dare you insult me like that! From now on it shall be called the T-Discord virus. It uglifies everything it touches. I want no part of it." She shook her head, making a soft tsk-tsking noise. " Poor Alexander."

" Is that really him? " Alfred pressed, horrified.

Veronica's eyes lost their fire and returned to their usual violet. " Of course not. Even I cannot resurrect the dead." She pointed to Nosferatu, who rested obediently, waiting for her command, " What you see before you is a manifestation of your recollections of the creature. In other words, my magics created him based on your memories. Personally, I'd never seen the bloke myself--not that I regret it. But I'm getting off-track here. You two created this creature, and now you shall be punished by him." She turned back around, met her descendants' gazes. " Now _that's_ what I call justice! "

For a moment she locked eyes with Alfred.

He turned his head, unable to take the strength of her steely gaze.

" What's the matter, Alfie? " She purred, " I thought you enjoyed a good torture. That's what it says in your notes."

Alfred hung his head low, having no witty reply. It was true. How many people had he tortured and brutally murdered over his lifetime? It had to be hundreds, possibly thousands. Sometimes he had done it out of vengeance, but more often than not it had been for pure and simple sadistic pleasure. Torturing people for his own personal amusement, inventing new and progressingly more painful ways to kill those who did not conform. It had been fun for awhile, but over the years it had gotten almost boring. Too predictable. The victims all spoke the same tired clichés every time, and their viscera all looked alike. The only thing that made it _really_ fun was when Alexia was with him. God, he never got tired of watching her work!

A menacing roar pulled him from his thoughts. Nosferatu was thirsting for revenge.

Veronica regarded the abomination introspectively. There seemed to be something missing. " Hmm...just to make it interesting...." A twirl of her finger and the monster's tentacles sprouted dozens of six-inch razor blades arranged in sharp, serrated rows.

Alfred was aghast. " That's not fair! He didn't have those! "

Veronica's wicked smirk said it all. " Nope. That was my doing. And so is..._this_! " Her hand jerked forward, straight for Alfred's chest. A bright, neon-green mist seeped out of her fingers and drifted near his face. When he next drew breath, Alfred inhaled this vaporous mist.

Instantly, everything changed.

_He was no longer in the castle. Gone were Veronica, Alexia, and Nosferatu. No chains bound him. He was in a dark, cluttered, miserable room packed tight with simple bunk-beds. There were others around. Talking. Crying. Begging to go home, to get back to their families. The air was thick with sadness and despair._

_Now he was trying to cheer up a comrade, a fellow inmate marked for death. The man was as frightened as they came. He spoke with horror of the infirmary. Nobody who went there ever came back. An insane laughter was often heard over the screams of the damned. " I can't die here," He was saying, " I have to get home to my wife and kids. Have to tell someone the truth about this place, about what happens to people who work for **him**..."_

_Alfred tried to comfort him. Told him that it was all going to be okay; they were going to escape this hellhole and bring this facility down. It was all going to be alright...._

Only, it wasn't.

Days slipped by and all he could do was watch helplessly as one by one his comrades were taken away to that place. Even the man he'd been trying to console. None of them ever returned.

_Sometimes, peering out the bars to his cell, he thought he could just make out the rough, irregular shapes of black body bags being carried out. It was this last that frightened him the most, and each day he grew more jittery, more nervous._

There had to be an escape! He searched everywhere, but could not find one. This perpetual nightmare could only have one escape. He could not get free. Trapped! So scared, so miserable.

_Now there were only five of them left. Five prisoners doomed to die. They talked about many things. Their joys, their sorrows. What they would do if some miracle occurred and they ever got free. They talked about their families and how much they wished they could make one simple phone call, even if only to say those three tiny words. They spoke of better times. Of love._

_And of death_. _There was always death. It lurked beneath the beds, behind the shadows, underneath the floorboards; in the very air they breathed. The ever-present reaper, ready to claim it's spoils. The vulture of destruction._

_It happened one gray and rainy afternoon. Alfred was laying on one of the vacant beds reading an old magazine--the facility never offered any current ones--when the three prison guards came in, as per usual. It was someone else's turn to take what he and the others had deemed 'the last walk.' Nothing new. He had grown used to them barging in every other day or so and calling out the number of the next unlucky winner._

_Only this time, they called out a number which sent shivers through his spine. **His **number. Frantic, he dropped the magazine and tried to dodge under the bed, retrieve the fine-tipped pen he'd been saving as a weapon. It was laughable, he knew, but desperate men will do desperate things._

_Futile._

Heavy hands clasped his shoulders and hauled him clear before he could reach it. They began to drag him--fighting and screaming--out of the cell, towards that Nazi hospital of death.

His remaining companions looked on; saddened, but too weak, scared, and disheartened to try and come to his aid. Not that it would have made a difference anyway. The soldiers carried guns, whereas the inmates wielded the mighty power of feather pillows.

_Having failed to fight his way free, Alfred tried pleading, begging them to set him free. If they did, he swore, he would go far, far away and never say a word of this to anyone. They'd never hear from him again._

_The Umbrella soldiers were largely unmoved. One of them gave him a sympathetic look--the same type of look a farmer might give a cow of which he was fond but knew had to be slaughtered--and that was the closest he came to swaying them._

_They reached the infirmary, and, much to Alfred's surprise, went behind it, rather than inside. " You're lucky," one of the soldiers said, " You'll be getting the quick version, lots of people aren't as fortunate. Boss must be in a good mood today."_

_Somehow this knowledge did not make him feel any better._

_They rounded a corner, where a sight straight out of a horror movie awaited. A gleaming guillotine sat to one corner, drenched in blood. There was blood everywhere: on the ground, on the walls; splashed over the wooden frame of the cruel device, and coloring the sharp edge of it's blade._

" No! Please, no! I'll do anything you say! Anything! Please, don't kill me! " Alfred begged, his eyes stinging with tears.

" I'm sorry." One of his captors--the one who had given him the sympathetic look earlier--announced without emotion, " Boss's orders. It's either you or us. Sorry, I wish that were different." He gestured to a bluish door just behind the guillotine, a door that bore the hated symbol. A moment later and this door swung open.

Out came a slender blonde man wearing a red uniform with gold trim and classy white dress pants. " Well well, look what the cat dragged in." An evil grin spread over the man's aristocratic features, and there was a moment of confusion.

**_Alfred Ashford?! It can't be, that's....me! These aren't my memories, they're...his_**.

_Now Alfred understood what was happening. This was the past. And he was experiencing it through the eyes of a man he'd killed years ago back on Rockfort. In fact, he remembered standing where this Past Alfred stood now; recalled saying those exact same words._

It wasn't anything like watching it on TV. Every thought, action....every feeling_ this man was having, he was experiencing as if it were his own. It was like his soul was there, somehow fused to the victim's senses and mind. Seeing his past self brought the dawning realization that this was not him, but it felt so real. Like he was really that person. And it was very hard to distinguish which thoughts were his apart from this nameless victim._

No...not nameless. Daniel.

_A wordless voice answering the unspoken question._

_Alfred was thoroughly confused. It was almost as if the victim were answering, but that wasn't possible, was it?_

" Please, Sir Alfred. Whatever I did wrong...I beg your forgiveness. Please, let me go and I'll pretend none of this ever happened. You'll never hear from me again, I swear to God." Alfred...no**...Daniel**, pleaded.

Past Alfred cackled heartlessly. It was not a pretty picture.

**_I sound like that?! No wonder people think I'm gay!_**

_Of course, sexual orientation was the least of his worries at the moment._

_Powerful waves of anguish and sorrow washed over him, and once again Alfred became Daniel._

" You're right about at least one thing," Past Alfred crowed, " I shall never hear from you again! Hahahah! Put him in."

_" Nooooo!! " It was with some difficulty that the soldiers placed a struggling Daniel/Alfred into the confines of the guillotine. All he could do was scream as his neck was forced into the half-circle cut of the lower wood. Then the upper slab was snapped into place, locking his neck firmly in a small hole._

" Help! Someone help me! " He flailed and thrashed wildly--like a cat caught in a collar that was much too tight--testing the structure for a weakness. Sadly, there were none. The whole thing barely wiggled.

_" No one's go-nna helll-p you! " Past Alfred sang out, his voice embarrassingly feminine._

_Daniel looked up, and through his eyes Alfred could see the murderous, bloodthirsty glean in his own icy blues._

There was something very unsettling about that look--a total dearth of compassion and empathy.

**_I want out of here! _**This time the thought was as much Alfred's as it was Daniel's, for he knew all too well what was coming next.

_Past Alfred pranced over and stood next to the trigger that would bring the lethal blade crashing down. There was a sadistic grin on his face. He was totally enjoying this. " Any last words before you loose your head? " He laughed at his own sick joke._

" Yes! " Daniel/Alfred spat, finally accepting that there was no hope, no salvation. " Go to Hell you dirty sonuva..." He never got to finish.

_With a vicious sneer, Past Alfred let the blade fall._

At that very instant, a butcher knife of terrible, cutting pain sliced through Alfred's neck. It was the worst pain he'd felt in his entire life, including the Steve incident.

" Aaaaaaaiiiiiiieeee! " A chilling scream escaped his throat, and the image faded to black. When he opened his eyes...his _own _eyes...he was back in the castle with Alexia, Veronica, and Nosferatu.

_Free! I wasn't really there, none of that was really happ..._

**_Who are you kidding? _** The Voice cut in, stronger now than ever before, **_Of course that happened. You were there, remember?_** **_Remember how you enjoyed it?_**

Alfred whimpered like a kicked puppy. His neck felt...strange. It tingled from a wound never received. _Yes but, why do _I_ have to suffer? He deserved what he got!_

**_How so? _**The Voice chided, **_What did he ever do to you? You didn't have to kill him, you know. You didn't have to kill all those people who worked on that secret bridge linking yours and Alexia's private residence, either. You're more of a monster than Nosferatu. You deserve every drop of pain Veronica can dish, and then some!_**" Veronica, what's....what did you do to me? " He asked softly, without looking up.

" Baby, it's called karma! " Veronica laughed, reminding him of himself when he was poking fun at people he was almost ready to kill. " Physical pain isn't the only kind, you know. And it's not always the worst. Too bad you two have a severe karmic debt. Had you been saints, you'd be having a much different experience right now. Anyway, I'll let the visions speak for themselves. As for the physical pain, I'll just say Daddy's not very happy with you." She wagged a finger mockingly, " You've both been very naughty children. It's time for some hickory tea! "

At his cue, Nosferatu moved in closer, tentacles whipping about in a frenzied passion. " Braaaaaaarrr!! " He bellowed, all the torment, rage, and frustration of his muddled mind wrapped up in that one monstrous roar.

Frantic, Alfred turned to Alexia to see how she was fairing.

Silent. There was no better word to describe her right then. She gazed on in cold silence, unfeeling. Unmoved. Indeed, it seemed as if nothing about this were even fazing her at all.

Alfred admired that. He certainly wasn't doing so well.

" Well, I'd love to stay, but I'm really busy." Veronica explained casually, spinning on her heel and marching towards the door. " Take care of 'em for me, will you Alexander? Buh-bye! " She spared a moment to turn and mock her descendants by blowing them a kiss. Then the door slammed, and she was gone.

That was all it took

With a savage roar of fury, Nosferatu charged. For being blindfolded he sure had an amazing sense of where his treacherous offspring were. He began beating them both mercilessly with those new-and-improved bladed tentacles.

Both twins cried out as long, gaping gashes were torn into their torsos: flesh and muscle stripped away with each strike.

Alexia, what do we do?! 

I don't know! I don't know, okay! Alexia snapped, That bitch did something to my virus...I can't shift to any of my forms! And these restraints are ridiculously strong. 

Then what do we do?! Alfred yelped, simultaneously crying out in pain as an angry tentacle lashed his face, cutting deep and drawing lots of blood.

Alexia whirled her head violently, locking eyes with her brother. " You don't get it, do you? " She said aloud, no longer taking the precaution of telepathy, " This is game over. There's nothing _we_ can do. Our only chance is if one of the kids comes and helps us. If I concentrate, I may be able to send a message to Alexandra. She cannot yet communicate telepathically, but she has my virus and her and I share a psychic link."

" Do you think she can do it though? I mean, Nosferatu isn't exactly the Easter Bunny, and even Ash bailed on us. Could she fight Nosferatu if she had to? More importantly, is there any chance she could win? "

Alexia's expression was grim. It was easy to tell that she did not have faith in the matter, and that she was now reduced to scraping the bottom of the big Tub O' Ideas.

" I guess we're about to find out, aren't we? "

" What if she can't? "

" Well then, you'd better bring along your favorite pair of shorts and some sun-block. Say SPF _Ten Billion_. Because it's going to be awfully hot where we'll be going."


	13. Troll Trouble

Lotsa emotion this chapter. Lately I've been swearing more, but for the rating of this fic, as well as my own innocent mind, some of the more harsher cusswords are censored with the symbols this chapter. My face turned red as wine every time I tried to write them! Oh well, just use your imagination when you get to that part. 0.0

Chapter 13

The world froze. At least, Chris imagined it did. He stood unblinking; staring at the horrid spectacle in front of him with wide-eyed disbelief. None of this was really happening--he was going to wake up any minute and Crystal would be there, tugging at his arm and laughing, asking him to read her a story.

What a lie. This _was_ happening. His mouth opened in a silent scream, no sound emanating from his dry throat.

His world had just been rocked. Make that _broken_. All by one person. All in less than two minutes.

Claire reached his side and froze, not daring to move another inch. Her shocked blue eyes fixed on the motionless form of Crystal sprawled out on the ground peacefully, as if she were merely sleeping; one arm stretched out slightly in front of the other. Her rumpled and damp brown hair crumple in the remnants of a loose pony tail streaked with mud. As for the eyes, they were sealed in serene slumber. Never to open again.

For a one wretched moment, the Redfield sibs were at a loss for words.

Wesker grinned widely, savoring the shattered looks on his enemies' faces. Revenge was a dish best served hot...by him! All that was missing was a camera to capture the magical moment--the moment when the loathed Redfields lost one of their own.

" What, you didn't think I'd actually do it? " He laughed coldly, never taking his eyes off Chris's dismal, shaken face, " Surely you know me better than that! And mark my words, the same will happen to little Seth too. It's only a matter of..." he paused for dramatic effect, lightly licking the edge of his upper lip in a taunting display, "..._time_."

During all the commotion, neither brother nor sister noticed Spade sneak up on them. Now she stood directly behind them, blinking. Her eyes flitted from her father, to Crystal, then to the Redfield sibs.

" Dad I..."

The words snapped Chris out of his stupor. But instead of turning to see the source of the new voice, he instead balled his fists, eyes flashing with rage.

" Damn you Wesker! You dirty son of a &%$ $%$-ing %$#! You're going to die for this! I swear you're going to rot in Hell for this, bastard! " Chris raged in a savage voice that didn't sound at all like his. It was as if someone had put a colored lens over his eyes and all he could see was red.

His mind was alive; every fiber of his being burned with an agonizing fury! A fury to murder Wesker in the most brutal, bloody, painful way he could think of. The $%# deserved it!

Wesker was not at all intimidated by Chris's sudden fiery outburst. He actually laughed.

" Kill me? You and who else? Claire? " He pointed to a shell-shocked Claire, who was still staring at the body as if she expected it to get up and run away at any moment. _Poor delusional Claire. _He shook his head, finding the concept of an attacking Claire rather amusing. Like she would actually stand a chance. " Somehow that doesn't quite strike fear into my heart."

" Then this oughta strike fear into your tush! " The words came attached to a blaze of Alan that shot like a rocket from the jungle behind Wesker. He launched his right foot up into a perfectly-aimed flying kick that sent Wesker sailing through the air.

" Alan! " Chris, Claire, and Spade greeted in unison, some more enthusiastically than others. 

Chris in particular was unenthused. Sure, he was happy to see him--that most likely meant that at least he and Claire would be able to survive--but his arrival was too late. Crystal was dead. His little girl was gone. Nothing would be able to change that. Not even Alan's miracle virus.

Alan screeched to a halt in front of Crystal's body, his sharp eyes missing no detail. One look at Chris and Claire's pained expressions, and one look at the listless Crystal, and he understood. _Oh no...God no... _Wesker had finally done it. His own father had at last made good on his threat and killed one of the Redfield kids. He detected no signs of life from the still warm body.

Claire gasped a sigh of relief. " Alan! It sure is good to see you! "

" A little late, aren't you? " Chris snapped. He dashed forward and picked his daughter up off the ground, all the while giving Alan such a harsh glare it actually caused the younger Wesker to flinch.

There was no mistake about it: Chris was angry. At Wesker. At himself. At the whole world. _How could this happen?! Why?! Why do bad things always happen to us? Are we such terrible people to deserve this?!_

Alan could read all too well the deep hurt and raw anger on his leader's face, and he felt his own sorrow rise up in an impending flood of raw emotion.

Crystal was dead. He couldn't help but feeling partially responsible. He should have been there. If he'd arrive only minutes sooner, maybe things would be different. Maybe his little half-cousin would still be alive.

But it was too late for that now. All that mattered now was protecting his friends.And he had not a moment to spare--Wesker was already getting up.

He shot Chris a sympathetic, helpless look before rushing his father. He couldn't change the past, but perhaps he could somehow set it at least halfway right. Achieve some degree of revenge. Wesker was going to pay for this one.

" Hey Dad! Alan's here! " Spade announced cheerfully.

Like Wesker was blind.

Wesker braced himself to face his charging son. " Yes, I did sorta notice that."

Though Alan was moving superhumanly fast, the movement was somewhat slowed down to Wesker's inhuman eyes. With the speed of a true T-2 carrier, he struck out and snagged his son's arm. Before he had time to react, he spun around and used Alan's own momentum to throw him into an old tree with enough force to split the wood.

" Dammit Alan, stay out of this! "

Alan sprang up in an instant, barely fazed by his woody encounter. " And why would I want to do that? " He threw, " I'm a member of Stars now--we don't turn our backs on friends. How could you do that? She was just a little girl! "

Not thirty feet away, Claire grabbed Chris by the arm and tugged, motioning him to follow her. Crystal's death was upsetting, but staying here would be like jumping into a pit of ravenous zombie dogs. With those kind of odds they may as well offer themselves to White Umbrella as guinea pigs and get it over with.

Yes, the time for moving was now. There would be time for mourning later.

" Come on! "

Unfortunately, Chris chose this of all moments to be stubborn. He planted his feet firmly in the ground and refused to budge.

" Come one! " Claire repeated urgently, pulling harder.

It was no use. Chris was staring blankly ahead at the clash of the Weskers, and his body posture indicated he didn't plan on moving any time soon. Almost like he was under a hypnotic spell.

_What, is he suicidal or something? _Claire thought, following his gaze.

Now Wesker held Alan in a tight headlock. It didn't last long: Alan tripped his father's legs out from under him and managed to free himself for about a billionth of a second. A sharp kick to his ribs sent him staggering backwards. Wesker did not play fair.

Chris watched this all as if in a mindless trance.

Claire quickly lost her patience. " Chris! " She was almost screaming now, " We have to pull out! "

Slowly, _way _too slowly for the circumstances, Chris turned to her. As he did so, Claire noticed that his eyes were glazed, his face ashen and devoid of hope. She'd seen zombies that more were optimistic. _Poor guy._

" But what about Wesker? " He asked softly, his voice so calm it was disturbing.

" Alan can handle him."

" Are you sure? "

" No--that's why I want to go! "

" She has a good point." Spade cut in, and for the first time since this whole thing had happened Chris and Claire acknowledged her presence, " Our dad's very powerful. He not only taught Alan his moves, but helped him perfect them. If I were you I'd run as far away as I could, because if my brother loses you're next." Her words were calm, but her voice was flavored with anxiety.

While Chris could hardly argue with her logic, it still took another sharp tug from Claire to convince his muddled mind that it was time to move. At last he turned away and nodded to tell Claire he was ready to go.

Claire hesitated a moment longer. " What about you? " She called to Spade, forgetting for a moment that the black-haired-with-blonde-streaks teenager was in fact Wesker's daughter and ergo not in any danger.

Spade winked before turning her head back in the direction of the fight, where Wesker had just finished striking Alan a painful blow to the jaw. " I'll be fine. Just go! "

_That's right, _Claire remembered, turning and dashing towards the jungle, _she's Wesker's daughter. Silly me._

She didn't feel even a little silly just now.

Chris ran alongside her, hugging Crystal tightly to his chest. " How far do you want to run? "

Claire picked up the pace, and it was a miracle she and Chris didn't trip and fall several hundred times with all the half-submerged roots, logs, and clumps of plants they sped over without noticing.

" I don't know...as far as we can. Alan is strong and a good fighter, but he can't fend him off forever."

" Spade! A little help here! " Wesker commanded briskly, narrowly avoiding a kick meant for his stomach. Much as he would never verbally admit it, Alan had improved since last they'd fought. Now his rogue son was almost as great a fighter as he was.

Now more than ever it was starting to feel like a battle of equals.

And, of course, if there was anything the S.T.A.R.S. betrayer despised, it was a fair fight.

" What, you need my sister to help you now? " Alan taunted, catching Wesker's arm in it's path to his face and swinging it around at an unnatural angle, " Easy enough to kill little three year old girls, but you can't pick on someone your own size? " His red and gold eyes sparkled with confidence--a total lack of the fear and respect they'd once held during all those missions years ago.

Wesker's own eyes burned with rage--two red-hot coals searing through his glossy black aviators. " Hey! You're not my size! "

Alan jumped back, feigning a hurt look. " Okay. So I'm two inches shorter. Big deal. Close enough. At least I don't go killing children! "

" She needed to die! " Wesker spat, zipping forward and managing to catch his unprepared son around the throat, " And now I'm starting to think you do too! " Holding one of Alan's arms down tightly with his free hand, he clenched the other tighter and tighter around his son's throat, attempting to choke the air out of him.

" Dad stop! " Spade pleaded, not wishing to see either one of her family members hurt. She may as well have been talking to the sky.

Wesker only squeezed tighter, and Alan brought his free arm up and started prying his fingers loose.

" Spade--don't just stand there, go get the you-know-what." Wesker grunted, having to use every ounce of his superhuman strength just to hold Alan still. This time he was careful to keep his feet in a very non-trippable position.

Spade started for the jet, then paused, as if unsure of something.

The ground shook slightly.

Wonderful. Mt. Fulcan was probably getting ready to erupt.

" What are you waiting for, a formal address? Hurry up! " Wesker growled, his patience tested to it's end. Alan was being very uncooperative, and now when he needed her the most Spade was just going to stand around and do nothing?

Unbelievable!

_What kind of kids did I raise?_

Suddenly Spade tensed up; green eyes widening in abject fear like a little kid coming face to face with the Boogeyman.

The ground shook again, this time much worse than before.

At first the Wesker men had thought it was merely the shockwaves of Mt. Fulcan about to go off, but seeing Spade's terrified expression now they weren't quite so sure.

" Troll! " Spade shouted, frantic. She pointed wildly behind them.

" Troll? " Wesker forgot about Alan and did a one-eighty.

Alan followed his example. " Troll." He agreed simply, for the hideous beast standing before them looked like a cousin of the Cave Troll in '_Harry Potter'_.

The first thing that struck any of the Weskers was the size. The troll was easily as high as a ten story building. It was humanoid in appearance with sickly mottled-green skin and a hard, squat, deformed watermelon-shaped head resting heavily upon massive shoulders. A few loose strands of scraggly silver hair sprouted in secluded patches atop the otherwise bald scalp. The eyes were two gelatinous blobs of red sunken into deep, furrowed brows. The face was a grotesque mess of bloated pimples, nasty scars, and a wide, gaping mouth that would make a Halloween jack-o-lantern jealous. Secured firmly in the shrunken gray-green gums were very sharp, yellowed teeth to which pieces of flesh and clothes still clung. The nose bore a striking resemblance to a pig's snout.

The body was not easy on the eyes either. This troll had obviously eaten all his spinach when he was little, because each of his three-fingered fists were the size of SUVs, and each finger was as thick as a tree trunk. The bulging stomach looked as hard as a rock. Just below that, thankfully, was a gigantic loin-cloth which to the untrained eye appeared to be made of ill-cured leather.

But it couldn't fool Wesker and Alan's keen noses--they knew right away it was human skin.

Barefoot--and with rancid fungus-ridden toenails to boot--the abomination supported itself on two legs each as big around as the most giant of redwoods.

With a monstrous bellow that surely must've shook the entire island, and with a speed surprising for a monster of it's mass, the troll scooped a startled Wesker and Alan up in each one of it's mammoth hands.

" Oh man, who let the troll loose?! " Alan complained, and Wesker hardly thought it was a joking matter.

_What to do now?! _Wesker struggled violently as he and Alan were lifted scores of feet into the air. If he could just get out of the creature's hand, he could jump down and tear off into the jungle full-throttle. No way was he sticking around to pick a fight with this thing. It just wasn't happening. Wesker had his limits, and a one-hundred foot man-eating troll with sharp teeth and breath that could kill an elephant definitely qualified for the _do-not-muck-with _list.

Alan's frame of mind was much the same. The behemoth holding them was unlike anything he'd ever faced before and much too powerful to mess with without the assistance of a decent linear launcher or guided missile.

_Man, the power of this big boy! _He pushed against the titanic fingers with all his might and couldn't budge them an inch! _Think Alan, think. _His horrified mind buzzed, _There has to be another way to escape this mutated King Kong. A way which doesn't involve me getting my guts squeezed out trying to pull free._

There was always the verbal approach. Lame. But worth a try.

" Hey! What's the big idea? " He yelled up at the monster, glowing his eyes in what he hoped was an intimidating gesture, " Put us down! "

Only subconsciously did he realize that he'd used the word 'us' instead of 'me'.

Wesker shot him a look which suggested he thought that maybe he wasn't quite right in the head. " What are you trying to do, get us killed _quicker_? "

" Well do you have a better idea? " Alan snapped, shifting his gaze from the hideous travesty of a mouth to his father, " Because if you do I'm all ears! "

The troll smacked it's lips--if you could call them that--together in a sickening wet sound which sent droplets of drool falling through the air to land on the helpless T-2 carriers.

It had them. It had them good.

" You don't want to eat me," Alan pleaded, " I'm bad for trolls. One hundred percent poison. Not to mention all the calories...think of the fat! I'm practically off the charts in carbs and cholesterol. And I taste terrible. Like...like those awful black-licorice jellybeans." He made a face of disgust in demonstration, " Ugh. Buddy, you eat me, you'll be dead within a week. Trust me. Speaking of food, have you ever thought about going vegetarian? I hear it's all the craze nowadays. All the cool trolls are doing it."

Wesker would have laughed if he wasn't about to be killed. " Yeah Alan, he _really_ wants to listen to your sound dieting advice. That's why he's drooling all over us and looking at me like a crowned rack of lamb."

Alan gave a sad sigh. " Just a thought."

_On second thought...maybe we're doomed._

What a way to go--an appetizer for a giant uglier-than-sin troll that so desperately needed to go on a diet anyway.

Perhaps he'd given up a bit too soon. An instant later and there was the unmistakable roar of a jet being fired up.

" Spade?! " Wesker gasped, realizing his daughter's plan.

She was going to try and save them by distracting the thundering oaf. Brave girl, Wesker had to give her credit for that.

" Braaauuugh! " The troll sneered, narrowing it's pudgy eyes on the sleek black jet.

The jet began to move away, picking up speed.

Luckily for the Wesker men, Mr. Troll wasn't all that bright. In his simple mind anything that moved was food, and the bigger the better. The big jet looked awfully appetizing.

His eyes shifted to the tiny morsels he held in his hands, and he curled his lip in distaste. Why settle for a couple of peas when he could have the full entrée? Decided, he threw the puny nothings at the ground and thundered after the jet.

Spade heard the colossal giant lumbering after her even through the roar of the motor; saw his monstrous bulk closing the not-nearly-nearly-long-enough distance between them through the mirrors. A creature that size was kinda hard to miss.

The first thing that she noticed was that it no longer held her father and brother, and a quick flood of relief swept through her mind. They would be okay. The diversion had worked beautifully, and that big blockhead had fallen for it.

Now she must worry about herself. This was going to be the tricky part. Truth be told, she hadn't really thought of this phase of the plan yet. When time was of the essence and people's lives were on the line it didn't exactly give you time to work out all the kinks.

Frantic, her eyes swept the control panel, taking in each individual button and brightly colored flashing light. It might help if she actually knew what she was looking for. For that matter, it might help if she knew much of anything at all about how to operate jets. During all the excursions with her father, she'd been merely the passenger--she hadn't _needed _to know this stuff. Even if she'd wanted to learn, it was doubtful her father would have permitted it. So what would be the point? Up until now, there had really been no reason to pay attention to how her dad did it.

Now she wished had.

_I wish there was a manual nearby, and that I had time to read it. Maybe practice a bit before the troll attacked. _Might as well dream big, right?

" Brraaaaaaghh!!! " The impatient troll bellowed, getting uncomfortably close. A few more yards and he'd have her!

Spade's mind swam; desperate for a plan. _What am I going to do now?! _She took another look at the main controls and felt like screaming right along with the bad-tempered troll. All these cursed switches and levers all looked the same! _What kind of moron designed these panels anyway? There should be very big, very noticeable levers labeled 'take off' and 'land'. And just what the heck are all these fancy gauges for anyway?_

It was absurd. Insane even. If only she could turn the craft around, she stood a chance of finding the weapons switch and unleashing a couple dozen round of machine gun fire on the nasty beastie. One good thing about this jet at least: her dad always made sure to keep it well-stocked with the bullets, missiles, and the occasional bomb just for good measure. Being in the assassination business, it helped to be prepared for all sorts of odd jobs HCF could dish.

What did half these buttons do? There was only one way to find out. Going on pure instinct, Spade pressed the nearest button in front of her--a small rectangular black one.

This proved not to be the right choice. The radio blared on with the gale of a hundred ghetto speakers and nearly blasted her through the roof: _" Shot through the heart, and you're toooo blame. Darling you give luh-huuhhvve...a bad name_! "

The corner of Spade's mouth pulled down in a gloomy frown. " Right. I'm sure he isn't going to notice _that_. Music to die by. I must be the luckiest girl in the world." The volume was up so loud her eardrums throbbed like hammers pounding inside her head. " Volume switch! Volume switch! " Who had had the music up that loud anyway? Certainly not her dad--not with his sensitive ears.

Jet stereo systems should not have volumes that went this high. Period. It was inhumane.

Spade's shaky fingers reached over to the left, where she was about to turn a promising dial when suddenly a sharp '_screeeeeuuuunch' _caught he attention, followed swiftly by a large '_thud'_ that felt more like a nuclear bomb going off.

Troll Boy had leapt unto the back of the jet! And he wasn't be sneaky about it, either. Spade thought she'd go deaf with the combination of the music and all the horrendous twisting, crashing, smashing, and all out mutilation of metal as the jet stopped and collapsed; the supporting wheels unable to withstand the added weight.

" Mrrraaaawww! " The triumphant troll screamed, his booming voice somehow managing to rise above Bon Jovie's in the fray. Any natives might not have seen the fight thanks to the all the greenery the island had to offer, but they had to have heard it. Flush the subtle approach down the toilet.. A stampede of elephants had nothing on this.

Spade's ears rang with the horrible racket, the perfect compliment to her rapidly-forming headache. At the moment, that was the least of her worries.

With another guttural roar of victory just to make sure that every creature on the island understood what a big, tough, mighty troll he was, the behemoth giant began smashing into the back of the jet: tearing away generous strips of metal in his powerful fingers. The scream of the metal being twisted, torn, and snapped apart reminded Spade of TV shows she'd seen where two trains collided.

For a moment, she sat still--glued to the pilot's seat while she tried to figure out her next course of action. Stay in the jet where she was hidden, but could possibly be killed, or race for the cover of the jungle where she might attract the troll's attention? Both had their risks.

Another huge chunk was ripped from the back of the jet in a shriek of metal, and now the aircraft had a nice skylight; free of charge. A split second later, and the ceiling almost directly over Spade's head exploded inward leaving a considerable dent not two feet in front of her face.

That did it. Staying in this death-trap was suicide. And being killed was a long way down on Spade's list of fun things to do. She was so outta here.

Without wasting another second, the young Wesker girl scrambled as quickly as she could out of the pilot's seat, opened the hatch, and jumped out. It was a good six foot drop to the ground, and the ungracious landing on her butt sure smarted, but at least she was still alive. For the time being.

The troll was still on the back of the crippled jet--still hammering away angrily with it's massive fists. It was horrible to think about--and even less pleasant to watch--something like that happening to such a gorgeous and high-tech piece of machinery. _Oh-well. Better it than me._ The troll paused briefly to take a bite of a big chunk of metal. Thankfully, it hadn't noticed Spade.

Which was the way she liked it. A mix of fear and adrenaline served as rocket-fuel to launch Spade to her feet and send her shooting towards the safety of the jungle. She didn't know exactly where her father and brother were--all she knew for certain was that she didn't want to be convenient when that oversized dogface decided that perhaps humans tasted better than jets.


	14. Royal Zombies

**Chapter 14**

Olivia awoke to the disconcerting sound of low, discontent moans. This was accompanied by awkward shuffling and a sickening 'squish-squishing', like a bunch of people walking around with waterlogged tennis shoes. And the smell....the smell was _terrible_. Like roadkill left to rot in a swamp. The stink of rancid flesh rotting off the bone.

_The T-virus carriers_, Olivia's mind told her, _and they are very close! _Though she herself was a zombie--and a rather pretty, clever, and powerful one at that--there were still a few things which scared her. One of these was the prospect of being bitten by a T-carrier. That would not do. That would not do at all.

Fortunately she was already dead. Stupid as they were, even her virused cousins knew that. Since they sensed to life from her, no _freshness_, so to speak, they had been ignoring her. Maybe even mistaking her for one of their own.

Not that they weren't above eating their own.

How close were they? Worried, Olivia risked a jerk up and looked around. There was a gang of no less than ten virus-carriers ambling blindly along the bank of the river...meandering this way and that in their search for live meat.

She rolled her eyes and tried not to make a noise in frustration. Zombies. Just bloody great! Just what she needed. And..._yech! _Though Olivia had seen their kind before, their appearance never ceased to appall her.

All of them stank to high heaven and were hideously disfigured. All of them. Golden rule. Most of what clothes still managed to cling to their hideous forms were the ripped and torn remnants of summer garb and just the sort of thing you'd expect to see on the now lifeless bodies of sightseers touring the island. One still had a camera hanging around it's neck.

Olivia shook her head and made a face of disgust. Never in a million years did she imagine the movement would get noticed. But it did. Four of the zombies turned her way. When they saw this new morsel was making very swift, un-zombie jerks, their interest was renewed in the limp form along the beach. Several of the group began to moan happily, if such a thing was possible.

_Uh-oh._

They were too close for comfort. _And that blasted S.T.A.R.S. member made me lose my knife! Stupid Jill what's-her-face. Eu, First chance I get I'm going to gouge out her eyes and feed them to her. Thanks to that filthy rat I have to escape the Zombie-Squad. Not that I have a place to talk, but at least I don't_ _look and smell like **that**_.

She rose to her feet with a speed unequaled by the others. " It's called _hygiene_," Olivia explained, " You know, just because we're dead doesn't mean we should let ourselves go. Remember what a bar of soap looks like? No? How about a bathtub? And..." Her eyes traveled to a plump lady zombie wearing a frayed and torn purple polka-dot dress. " Euueew! My eyes! If you're going to wear something that hideous, the least you could do is keep it clean! My god woman! " She slapped a hand to her mouth afterwards, catching her mistake.

" Uuuuhhhhh? Uuuuuuhh! "

Now all the zombies were shuffling towards her, a sickening mob of hygiene-challenged flesh-hungry fiends.

_I just had to go and open my big mouth_. _Why is it I always have to add my two-cents' worth? _"_ Oops!_ " She laughed nervously, motivating the first group to start staggering forward faster. " Not that the dress looks bad on you, of course. Some people can wear stupid and ugly."

But these weren't people. And she knew it was no use in conversing with virus-carriers. They lacked the intellect of her breed. Nervous, Olivia backed up.

Two more virus carriers were closing in on her from the right. _Damn. They have me surrounded!_

" Look fellas, you don't want to eat me. I'm dead myself. I've expired. I'd be willing to bet a truckload of brains I don't taste very good. What you want is _live_ flesh." She studied a particularly foulsome zombie with half his face rotted off and one eyeball hanging by threads from the socket of his right eye before adding, " Yes, I'm just like you. Only prettier. And smarter. My god, how can you exist like this? I'm up for the devouring of raw human flesh as much as the next zombie, but if I looked like you, I'd kill myself."

The zombie quickened it's pace. " Uhhnnn. Uuuuhhhhh!! "

Olivia blinked. She didn't understand moan-speak, but if she had to guess she'd bet that that was an anger moan. Either that or a very hungry I-want-to-eat-you-right-now moan. After all, these zombies were dumber than a box of rocks. They'd probably forgotten concepts such as anger.

" No offense." The smartest zombie on the river bank added meekly, as if that would make any difference.

Olivia easily had the strength to overcome the zombie. Problem was, she didn't want to get anywhere near it. All it would take would be one bite, one _scratch_, and she'd be infected. And if she were infected, well....she preferred not to think about that. Instead, she studied the small gap between the two approaching zombies; wary of those to her sides. There was a chance she may be able to butt the one on the right aside and dash for cover before it had a chance to infect her. It was risky, but if she didn't do something soon she was going to be food.

For the briefest of moments, an strange sense of guilt washed over her: was this the way her victims felt before they died? She dismissed it quickly as the other zombies approached closer....suddenly, a blur of movement!

A not-too-shabby looking young man with wavy black hair and carrying a rifle leapt from the jungle off to the side followed immediately by three others. He placed a well-aimed shot and the zombie closest to Olivia dropped; it's head decimated. Another shot to the cranium of a second zombie sent it crashing to the ground in a messy heap next to it's partner.

" Mitch! " Olivia called, and she had never been so happy to see him.

Mitch nodded, smiling. " Yeah. Look out behind you! "

Reacting out of pure horror-driven instinct, Olivia surged forward and barely missed the clawing hand of a ravenous virus-carrier ready for breakfast. It grunted in complaint and sauntered after her at a much slower pace.

Olivia reached her comrades in plenty of time and sided up next to Sonya, the only other female besides herself in the group. Now the five friends were only twenty or so yards away from the remaining zombies.

The virus-carriers seemed almost thrilled at the sight of this new prey. They moaned louder and louder--practically climbing over one another in their rush.

One of the guys--Olivia knew him as Nacho--laughed. " Hey look! It's our retarded cousins! "

Mitch shot him a disapproving glare. " That they may be, but the T-virus is no laughing matter. You wouldn't think it funny if you were infected by one."

Nacho shrugged, his dark bare-skinned shoulders hunching up. " No. I s'pose not."

The zombies ambled closer. They might not be regular roadrunners, but at this rate it would not take them long to reach their prey.

" Shall we run? " Sonya suggested.

Mitch nodded and lowered his rifle. There was no point in wasting bullets unnecessarily. " Lets."

With that the group turned and fled back into the jungle: leaping logs, stepping over vines, and pushing through a wide variety of plants. Once he was sure they were at a safe distance, Mitch--who was the leader of the gang--stopped in a semi-clear area of jungle and sat on a rotted log. This would do. Now that they had found the missing Olivia it was time to get the rest off their act together. He was joined on the log by his girlfriend Sonya. took up positions on rocks and felled tree stumps.

Mitch's eyes glazed each in turn. All of his gang were relatively young-looking--the oldest, Nacho, had barely been thirty at the time of the transformation, and everyone else was in their twenties. He didn't particularly like the icy glare David was sending his way, but then David had never held much respect for anyone. Nothing new there.

David was second-in-command. In the looks department he was not anything special: short medium brown hair and matching eyes complimenting his Joe-Average visage. His thin, wirey form had always been a shade or so too pale to start with, so the transition to zombie really hadn't affected his looks that much. At first glance he had the outward appearance of being a weak--like the sissy-boy that was every bully's dream. Appearances could lie. David was the firecracker of the group with a hair-trigger temper and almost zero patience. There was no question that he liked to be in charge and call the shots whenever he had the slightest chance. It was this very temperament that had led him to challenge Mitch for leadership of the pack once years ago after they'd just been turned. This had resulted in the thin pink scar shaped like a downturned crescent moon which ran a good two inches length barely above his right eye. A grim reminder of where Mitch had grazed him with a very sharp bowie knife. Ever since losing that vital battle, David was a little more...careful with how he treated his leader. Though he still resented Mitch immensely, he kept it in check for the sake of one girl.

Had he not had a secret affection for Sonya, he would have left the gang long ago. Sure, she was with Mitch, but hey, you never knew when that could change.

Sitting to David's left was Nacho, the guy who looked like he should be the muscle of the group. Back when he was still alive, Nacho had been a very talented basketball player. He was certainly the largest of the group at 6'4 and weighing in at 230 pounds. Being African American, and thus having naturally dark skin, he hadn't been thrilled when his tones had lightened up, causing him to look just slightly freak-ish. As if to compensate, he'd covered almost every square inch of his body with tattoos of almost every morbid description.

Back when he was alive he'd been a very talented basketball player. Now that he was the undead, the sport had just lost it's kick. He didn't mind taking orders from Mitch. Despite his domineering appearance, he was actually very quiet and laid-back. The peacekeeper of the group.

At Mitch's side, of course, was Sonya, an energetic red-head.

Sonya had once been a secretary hopeful for a company she'd really liked. However, she'd been denied the position in favor of another applicant, causing her to slip into a deep depression that was ultimately responsible for her being the way she was now. It was through her best friend Olivia that she'd met Mitch, and for that she would always be grateful. In spite of her upbeat, overly-friendly nature, Sonya loved being a zombie so much that she should have been born one. The first thing she had done after her transformation was to go after that trashy applicant and...well...the woman would never steal another job again. What was left of her was decaying at the bottom of a river.

More than anything, Sonya loved the thrill of the hunt; the lust for the kill. She'd hunt even when she wasn't the least bit hungry. Just for the fun of it. Just because she could. It gave her a sense of power and control she never could have enjoyed when she was living.

Olivia was an ex gang-member. A delinquent who had never taken school seriously and whose idea of a good time had been the nightly destruction of property. Now her idea of a good time was hunting victims with the pack and devouring the still warm juicy entrails of a fresh kill. She was the lowest-ranking member for a number of reasons: the top being that she seemed to never be able to take anything seriously, and for the few minor incidents in which she'd almost gotten the entire pack captured or killed. Mitch viewed her as a liability, but he'd known her ever since before they'd became zombies and he kept her around primarily for added companionship, since she was lousy at everything else.

The weakest link, so to speak. If there was a way to foul up Olivia would find it.

As for Mitch himself, he sported wavy ebony hair which went slightly past his ears when brushed down and eyes so dark brown they were often mistaken for black. Though his complexion was quite pale, it actually suited him better than his former lively hues. Olivia had once said he looked like Eric Draven from that movie _'The Crow'_. Mitch didn't really know--he'd missed the movie--but based on what he'd heard he took that as a compliment.

In his pre-zombie days, Mitch had been at loose ends in life--not knowing which roads to take or even where he ultimately wanted to end up. He had been a loner, though not by choice. Others simply couldn't relate to him. Now he was free to do as he pleased and anyone who thought differently was killed.

Wild and free like ravenous wolves of the untamed wilderness. That was the way he liked it. Free to roam as they will and kill who they pleased. Never staying in one place for long, always on the move to a new country or continent. After all, it wouldn't be good to raise too much investigation in one area. Mitch was no fool. He knew that secret companies like Umbrella, HCF, and almost every other viral division on the face of the planet would _love _to have such unique creatures to study.

It was the life of both the hunter and the hunted. Exhilarating.

David was the first to speak. " Man those things are annoying." He shook his head to further illustrate.

Sonya was more interested in Olivia. " Olivia! What happened to you? You're a complete mess! "

Olivia nodded. " I know." Her eyes fell to her wet, mud-caked outfit. There was still a generous rip in the fabric of her shirt where she had been stabbed with her own knife. And her hair...she reached a hand up and hoped to god her hair didn't look as bad as it felt. After all, white water was bound to do something to those lovely pink hair-spikes. She wrinkled her nose. If only she hadn't been shoved off that cliff! " Stupid Jill."

David raised an eyebrow. " You encountered someone then? A human? "

Olivia sniffled, putting on her sympathy act. " Uh-huh."

The edges of Mitch's lips curved into a frown. This could be a bad sign. They needed to know more. " What happened? " He slung the rifle across his lap and maintained that air of coolness he always seemed to have about him.

Olivia sniffled some more, and the males of the group felt like strangling her.

Sonya was a little more sympathetic. She dug around in her deep jeans pockets until she felt her special zip-lock baggie, and pulled it free. This she offered to Olivia. It was filled with a messy red and pink substance.

" Oh, poor dear! You must be famished. Here, I saved you some leftovers from breakfast. Turns out there is a village of natives on this island, who would've guessed? Primitive people, but some of them were kinda cute." She licked her lips. " And quite tasty, too."

David wiggled his hand in the so-so gesture. " Eh, a little stringy for my tastes. I liked the flavor though. Was just the texture I had a problem with."

Nacho shook his head. " Seemed okay to me."

Olivia snatched the baggie greedily, and Sonya handed her a metal spoon to go with it.

" Great! What part is it? " She couldn't wait to dig in!

" Your favorite," Sonya purred, " and mine too: brain."

Olivia's eyes lit up. " Brain! Thank you! " She opened the bag and began spooning out the contents, devouring them in quick, hungry bites.

" Geesh, is food all you guys ever think about? " Mitch sighed. Of all the pack, he was the best at controlling his hunger. " Look, we've got problems here." He locked eyes with Olivia, his gaze piercing. " Olivia. What. Happened? Ignoring for the moment that those virus carriers shouldn't have been able to get within a hundred feet of you, much less surround you. You mentioned a Jill. Let's hear it."

Olivia swallowed nervously, some of her food losing it's flavor. God, she hated it when Mitch put her on the spot like that.

" Oh yeah. I ran into Jill Valentine of the Stars team. You know, the ones who we heard about at Spencer? "

Mitch lowered his head; snapped a twig off a tree. " How could I forget? Go on."

" Well," Olivia said between mouthfuls, " She was lost and all alone. Looking for her team and kids. This was further upstream, by the way. And last night. Anyway, she wasn't in too good of shape, so I figured I'd kill her and enjoy a little snack before reporting back to you guys. I managed to get her down--even bit a good sized chunk out of her arm--but the rat turned out to be a better fighter than I thought and somehow managed to stab me through the chest with my own knife. Then there was a fluke and she was by some miracle able to trip me off a steep ledge and into the river. When I awoke, I was washed up alongside the bank of where you found me and surrounded by the virus-carriers. By the way, you were just in time."

" Yeah well you were talking pretty loudly." Sonya laughed, " We'd seen T-carriers in the area before, but since they don't talk we figured it had to be you. Plus it _sounded _like you."

Mitch wasn't as amused as his girlfriend. He threw his twig at the ground. Hard. " Oh that's just dandy." He rolled his eyes and slapped a hand to his forehead. " Now we not only have the Stars on the island, but we have them suspicious of us." He turned on Olivia, " What does she know? "

Olivia nearly choked on her bite of brain. " Uhm, she uh....she uh..."

" Spit it out." Mitch snapped, " You're starting to sound like a T-virus zombie."

Olivia winced under his powerful stare. Mitch was leader of the pack for a reason. He was the strongest. He was the smartest. He had bested David in the fight for leadership of the pack. And he could be very intimidating. No human had ever angered Mitch and lived. Not one. It was quite an admirable feat.

Olivia on the other hand, well, she'd been bested by a wounded S.T.A.R.S. member. How embarrassing. She thought about lying, decided no, she liked her arms where they were at.

" She knows I'm a zombie." She confessed, finishing up the last bite. Was that really all there was left?

Mitch's face took on a more serious tone. " Anything else? "

Olivia backed off, scooted closer to David. Mitch wasn't going to like this. " She knows I am not the only one like this? " Though a statement, her remark ended up sounding more like a question due to the higher-pitched tones at the end. She hoped her leader was in a forgiving mood.

" Well isn't that just great! " David threw, rudely shoving Olivia away from him. He always had been the fiery one of the bunch. " Everyone knows how hard it is to kill a Stars member. And hey, don't they have that Wesker-guy with them now? The one who has the T-2 virus? "

Mitch nodded unhappily. " Yes. Actually, it's Wesker's son. I forget his name, but I do know that he has the T-2 virus. He's every bit as dangerous as his dad. If he talks to Jill, then encounters us, we're through. Period."

Shudders of fear raced throughout the gathering. Mitch's was a fairly smart little gang of zombies. They knew about Wesker and the powers the T-2 granted him. They'd heard reports and seen pictures of some of his doings. Thus far, none of them had ever encountered a T-2 carrier in person. Which was, undoubtedly, why they were still alive. Well, not alive in the general sense of _being alive_, but still up walking around.

Mitch had been feeling semi-good earlier, but now that feeling vaporized like a drop of water dashed upon hot coals. They hadn't expected to have to deal with one of the deadly T-2 carriers. And the rest of Stars were no fools either. Fools didn't survive as many viral spills as they had. Fools didn't cross paths with both Wesker _and _Alexia and live to tell about it.

" And thanks to brain-trust Olivia, Jill knows about us." David growled, aiming a hard glare in the direction of the pink-haired zombie.

Olivia didn't look at him. " Well, I did smash Jill up pretty bad." She added, hoping to redeem herself in the eyes of her pack, " I mean, the way she was....she probably didn't make it through the night. And even if she did, she wouldn't get far. Not with all the nasties lurking about out there."

Mitch sighed. Why was it that Olivia always seemed to be getting them into trouble? Once in Paraguay she'd almost led an entire task force of elite bio-weapon hunters straight into their living room! And it was also her fault that....

_Beepbeep! Beepbeep!_

The zombie leader's cell-phone went off, causing the whole group to jump.

With a frown, Mitch pulled it from his pocket and pressed it on. He knew what this meant.

" Yes Mark, what is it? " He tried his best to bite back the sarcasm which begged to be expressed. He and Mark weren't exactly on intimate terms.

" What is it? What do you _think_ it is? " The voice on the other end of the line snapped, making it all too clear that the owner probably wasn't having a good day, " I sent you guys to keep tabs on Rob, remember? Or did that tiny slice of information slip your primitive minds? I want a progress report. Now."

Mitch wanted to lash out, to tell this science-nerd-lab-coat-wearing cretin with an over-inflated ego exactly what he thought of him and his stupid assignments. It was a conversation he'd fantasized almost daily ever since the beginning of this crazy goose chase. Not that the idea was ever likely to see fruition.

Mitch was the leader of a group of five very special zombies. All of them were stronger and faster than the average person. He wielded the mighty battle axe.

Mark, on the other hand, was a scientist and the leader of the ultra-smart high-tech organization known as Acid Rain--a collection of 13 super-genius scientists in all--which focused on the bio-engineering of animals illegally but generally without the use of viruses. They were different from Umbrella and HCF in the fact that they were actually pretty successful in creating super-enhanced mutants that actually obeyed them. Mark, who boastfully claimed he was the third smartest person in the world, ( though Mitch had yet to see any paperwork or other documentation proving this ) was the mastermind behind such genetic marvels as Kiticore ( a shame it had been stolen ) and Drearzion. As a result he had several loyal 'pets' that could rip a zombie--even a special one like Mitch--apart as easily as a tiger ripping open an antelope. He wielded the mighty rocket-launcher.

So it was not really a good idea to get him mad at you. Acid Rain were on top of their game. Unlike....

" Like I said earlier, we lost Rob when the big storm hit. We're looking for him right now, as a matter of fact. Or we were until you called." Mitch had to struggle to keep his tone calm and unoffensive.

" Phfft! You haven't been able to locate him again yet after a window of eighteen hours? What kind of zombies are you? I'm starting to think I'd be better of employing the services of the T-carriers."

Mitch growled. " If you think that would help, fine! You go right ahead and do that. We never wanted to work this case anyway. If you're such the..."

" I guess you don't want to be paid then." Mark said casually, " No work no pay. I could always find someone else who could appreciate the two million, I suppose."

" No! I mean, we're still on the task. It's just...some problems have arisen lately." Mitch quickly redeemed. Two million dollars could buy an awfully lot of nice things.

" Problems? What kinds of problems? " Mark asked with a tinge of annoyance.

Mitch's eyes swept his assembled pack. How was he going to put this? It was never easy admitting failures and flaws. " Well for starters, we're not alone on this floating rat-trap. There are T-carriers here. And strange creatures that look like they walked right out of a science fiction movie. Plus, the Stars are also here snooping about. Thanks to big-mouth Olivia, they know about us being zombies. If they're here, it means that Wesker's son probably is too."

Mitch could almost feel Mark's frown through the receiver. " Stars? Alan? On Majika Island? What could they possibly be doing there? Hmm, this is a slight problem I suppose, but it only makes me that much more curious as to what secrets that island's hiding. It seems to be in the center of every secret corporation's radar. Keep tailing Rob. It's an island for Pete's sake, there's only so many places he could be. Find out what you can, and report back to me every three hours, or whenever you find something worth mentioning."

Mitch nodded, was aware Mark could not see him, and added, " Aye aye Captain. But what about the Stars? They know our secret, they pose a threat."

" I don't care...avoid them. Kill them if you have to, but only at your own risk. I hear Alan can be quite...brutal to those who kill his friends. You know he has the T-2, right? "

" Kinda hard to forget." Mitch muttered darkly, " What should we do if we see him? " His voice was stained with a trace of worry.

" Easy." Mark replied coldly, " Stay out of his way." That was the last thing he said before there was a sharp _'click' _andthe line went dead.

Mitch put away the receiver, his expression grim. He studied the anxious faces of his comrades while he contemplated what to do. Tailing Rob shouldn't be a problem once they caught up with him again. But the Stars....well, they were the perfect stink bomb to spoil the picnic. If Jill survived long enough to reach her companions she was going to go blabbing off about super-zombies and that would put the whole team in an uproar. That wouldn't do.

_If she survives._

But what if she didn't? It wouldn't hurt to go slightly out of the way for precautions, even Mark should see that.

" Slight change in plans," Mitch told his loyal following, " We get to the spot where Olivia encountered Jill and see if she's still there and alive. If she is, we make her dead before she can reach any of her companions. Any questions? "

-------------------------

Jill awoke to the melodious song of tropical birds heralding a new day; singing away the unspoken sins of last night. The air hung damp and still--no wind save the faintest of breezes caring to grace her senses. Eyes still shut, Jill rustled a bit where she lay, her groggy mind trying to make sense of the sensations she was experiencing.

Warm. It was warm where she lay. Soft, too. Like in a bed. A small noise escaped her lips, and whether it was an expression of pleasure or pain was unclear. A feisty stab of pain jolted her arm, and this time Jill's cry _was _one of pain. The area just below her right wrist throbbed violently and felt as if it were being burned by live coals. All over her body, aches and pains from the various bruises, scratches, and other bodily injuries she'd received transmitted their painful messages to her weary brain.

_Where am I?_

Good question.

Her eyes fluttered open and she found herself staring straight up into the rusty-reddish nooks and crannies of an earthen ceiling. _Cave?! _Jill's heart sped up. This wasn't right. This wasn't right at all. She vividly remembered collapsing immediately after the battle with Olivia--alongside the riverbed and out in the open. Bleeding to death in plain sight. With all kinds of beasties that went bump in the night. She'd been certain she was going to die. How she'd longed to be able to see the others right then, just one last time...yet here she was, still alive. Blankets crafted of animal furs covered her body and made up the warm nest in which she lay. They were very soft to the touch--no doubt deer and rabbit furs. Her head was cradled gently in the folds of a very fluffy pillow.

Jill silently thanked whoever had found her for their selfless hospitality. _Speaking of which, it's not such a far-fetched idea to thank my rescuer may have been one of the team. _But if that were true, why would he or she go off and leave her alone?

Well, there could be plenty of reasons for that. The important thing right now was that she was safe, dry, ( mostly anyway ), and warm. Injured, yes, but alive. And darn lucky to be so.

The smell of smoke and crackling of wood alerted her to the presence of a fire nearby. For the first time since she'd been separated from her team, Jill felt her spirits start to rise. _A fire! Fire equals heat plus protection, and someone wouldv'e had to start it!_

This was good. After her streak of bad luck it was about time for the tides to turn! And hey, it was morning now, maybe the others had already found each other and regrouped. Maybe they had Crystal and Seth with them. Maybe she was last on the checklist. That would certainly be ace.

Carefully, the weakened-but-still-lively Stars member pulled herself to a sitting position and looked around. Just as she'd predicted, it was a shallow cave. Not terribly large, it was mostly empty except for a few torn shreds of clothing and fabrics strung about here and there. They looked fairly recent, too.

Another bolt of pang shot through her right arm, and when she looked down she was a little surprised to see it carefully wrapped in varying lengths and widths of ragged, white cloth. She tried the muscles in it, and regretted that action within seconds. Nope. Not healed much.

The horrific events of last evening were not merely some terrible nightmare she could wink away. The deep pink gash marks of Olivia's knife were still fresh in the palm of her left hand. They did look clean and disinfected, but they were still there. Whoever had cared for her had spared no fine detail.

She shifted her head towards the entrance to the cave. Smoke drifted by lazily in light gray wisps. She couldn't quite see the fire, but it didn't take Alexia to figure out that it was very close by. A hint of cooking meat reached her nose.

Well, no use in sitting around, it was time to go out and congratulate her rescuer and find out as much as she could about the missing members of her party. Crystal and Seth were number one priority right now, and she wouldn't rest until they were safe by her side. _Especially with that psycho-zombie on the loose...._

Jill considered herself a fairly brave person. Over the past few years of her life, she'd exposed more secrets, seen more dead people, and faced more hideous monsters than most people could imagine. The dangerous missions, the risky rescues, the nick-of-time escapes and near-death-experiences had served to temper her naturally inquisitive nature with caution.

In a way, it was Hell. Not being able to sleep soundly at night. Jumping at every noise in the dark. Imagining monsters where none were. But then again, you never knew when they _could be _there.

In this crazy mixed-up life she'd gotten sucked into, nothing was ever cut and dried. Other people...other people had at least the _illusion _of safety. Ignorance was bliss.

Jill Redfield knew the truth.

Over the past six years or so she'd thought she'd seen it all; that no matter what Umbrella and it's rival companies did from this point on, none of it cloud possibly surprise her.

Yet last night it had.

Jill was not unfamiliar with zombies. Some were fresher and faster than others. The other, more far-gone ones, traveled at a much slower pace. They were easily distinguishable by the tattered clothes, ripped and bloodied flesh, pale, sunken-in rotted skin, absent or badly-maimed body parts, congealed blood, foul odor, and staggering, drunk walk. The only noises they made were melancholy, hungry moans. They attacked by charging a human with both arms held straight out like ramrods to grab into the flesh around the shoulders. Once that was achieved, the zombie held on tightly to steady it's prey for that deadly bite--nearly always on the neck, just like the mythical vampires.

As far as intelligence went, they were far from the brightest stars in the sky. A few had learned to master the art of opening doors. Some devised the brilliant 'strategy' of lying in wait motionless on the floor feigning dead while waiting for food to walk by. However, Jill supposed this probably wasn't so much strategy as a zombie just napping on the floor for whatever reason.

Zombies were known to do a lot of disgusting things.

One thing they generally did _not_ do was talk in normal, coherent sentences. Yet Olivia had done just that. Also, for a zombie, Olivia had been in extremely good shape. Though a little pale, she could easily pass for a normal person.

Well, almost anyway.

The way Jill saw it, nobody who had pink hair spiked up with rings hanging out of each spike-tip in addition to all those piercings and tattoos could possibly pass as normal. Strange, weirdo, wacko, maybe. But your first thought would not be _zombie_.

In addition to these differences, Olivia was a regular Einstein when compared to the traditional zombie. She seemed to be exactly like any other person, only a dead, cold, and calculating killer. Not to mention the consuming of raw human flesh.

__

And she isn't alone. Jill couldn't shake the zombie's words aside: _" Ah. Well Jill, I know where some shelter is. My friends and I have a nice warm fire built."_

_" Your friends? "_

_" Yeah. Three guys and another girl. We were stranded on this island a few hours ago when the storm blew us off-course and capsized our motorboat. We found a safe place to camp; an indentation in the side of a steep cliff_.

Had she been fibbing about that? Maybe. Maybe not. If what she said was true, it was reasonable to assume that these 'friends' were most likely zombies themselves, and since it would not make even a tiny bit of sense for a special talking-zombie like Olivia to be trooping around with a bunch of the dime-a-dozen regular zombies, it was a pretty safe gamble that they would also be 'gifted'.

Being the careful analytical intelligence officer that she was, Jill liked to look at things from all angles. Thus she was quick to find that there was a little bit of good and a whole lot of bad to this.

The good was that Olivia-type zombies could talk and think logically, therefore they might be able to be reasoned with. On the flip side, of course, since they were armed with both weapons and intelligence, it made them about ten times more dangerous than the average zombie. Chances were she wouldn't find these guys stumbling around and moaning in plain sight.

Plus they could run.

Zombies should _not _be able to run. It wasn't fair.

Darnnit. And to think just moments ago she'd been in a halfway decent mood. Thinking of these new super-zombies did absolutely nothing in the ways of comforting her.

_Suppose one of the children...no! I am not thinking about that! They're alright. They have to be. And I have to get up and see what the deal is instead of just sitting here twiddling my thumbs._

Decided, Jill rose gently to her feet, careful not to make any sudden movements. There was a stir outside, like someone fiddling with the fire. So her rescuer was indeed present. Swallowing back her fears on what she might find waiting out into the unknown, Jill pressed forward.

Closer, closer...there! Out into the sunlight!

" Well well, look who's up and about! How are you feeling? That was quite a hammering you took last night."

Jill jumped at the words.

Sitting at a medium-sized campfire was a young twenties-something young man with dark chocolate brown hair and pale...make that _very _pale...skin. His style of dress was not unlike to that of U.S. soldier with a tough, weather-resistant uniform of camouflage greens and browns and the combat boots that went with it. At the moment this stranger was holding a stick with a chunk of meat skewered to one end out to cook over the open flames. He looked up and smiled when he saw her.

Despite the fact that his words were friendly, and despite the fact that he'd obviously rescued her, Jill found herself reluctant to trust him.

Olivia had acted halfway civil too, right up until the part where she'd taken that first bloody bite. And she'd had pale skin, too.

Once again the red flags went up in the back of Jill's mind. From this point forward she had an automatic distrust of pale-skinned strangers.

The man noticed her eyeing him, perhaps deciding if she should run away or not.

" Easy there." He said softly, " I'm not the big bad wolf." He sent her a friendly lop-sided smile intended to ease her nerves. " Name's Rob. Sure you want to be leaving so soon? Those wounds look pretty nasty." He glanced quickly towards the jungle. " Besides, jungle's not a safe place to be these days."

Jill gave a dry, humorless laugh. " You're telling me." Still, she found her eyes shifting to the aforementioned woods. They weren't far. Maybe thirty feet away. She should have plenty of time to...

" I promise you I don't bite." Rob persuaded, noting her hesitance, " I know you've been to Hell and back the past twenty-four hours, but I'd hate to see you run off all alone. Especially in your condition."

_I don't bite...._hadn't Olivia said those exact same words? Warning shots fired through Jill's mind--suppose this was one of Olivia's friends? _But if that were true, why would he save me? He could've murdered me in my sleep. No, he seems genuine enough...as long as I don't allow him to too close I should be fine. Besides, not like I have much a chance of outrunning him like this anyway._

Not that she wasn't grateful--she was--but given the circumstances, she had every right to be cautious. It was the careful mouse that didn't get caught. And right now, a mouse was just what she felt like--small, weak, and hunted. Overall not the best feeling in the world to have.

" I'm Jill." Jill introduced without much emotion. She went over and stood at the opposite end of the fire--putting the wall of flames between her and her benefactor. If he attacked, she planned to grab a flaming stick and hit him in the face. " Please, have you seen my kids? Or one of my friends? I was vacationing with them along the beach and..."

" Children? " Rob cut in, " I found a small child wandering out lost and alone in the woods yesterday. Around two or three years old, I'd say." He pulled the singed piece of meat from the fire and sat it to cool next to a few others on a piece of aluminum foil.

" Crystal! That was my daughter! " Jill cried, worried, relieved, and frightened all at once, " How was she? Where is she? What did you..."

Rob held the stick up as if to ward off the rapid-fire questions. " Whoa whoa! Slow down there, you sound like a chipmunk. Yes, I found Crystal. She was wet, cold, scared, and alone, but other than that she seemed to be fine. I carried her around in my arms until I found her father wandering down the beach aimlessly like he was lost. He didn't have any weapons, so I gave him one of my uzis. Last I saw of him and Crystal they were doing just fine. I had to be on my way though, and I suspect they did too...this entire island is just plain dangerous. An entire shipload of zombies crashed ashore just last night." He shook his head. " Nuh-uh. Not a fun place to be."

Now Jill was _very _interested. She took ten seconds to let it sink in that Crystal was safe with Chris. That was the baby taken care of. Then she asked, " You know about zombies? "

It looked safe to sit down so she did. The fire felt nice and warm.

An odd expression swept over Rob's face for a moment, and he cast his eyes to the ground. At first the only answer Jill got was a slow nod. Rob fetched one of the cooler chunks of meat and bit in. It wasn't until he was finished with this first bite that he replied verbally. " Yes. One bit you." He pointed to Jill's bandaged arm. " I could barely stop the bleeding."

Jill's mouth hung open. " Then you _saw_ it? You know who did this to me? "

Rob shifted uncomfortably, refusing to meet Jill's gaze. Instead he stared at the grass and pretended to be deeply interested in the bugs crawling therein. " Yes. I saw some of what happened...I was in the woods last night--lost, actually--when I heard screaming coming from off in one direction. So I just followed my ears until I reached the edge of the trees. I saw you push that Olivia over the bank...quite impressive. Then you fell, and by the time I reached you you were out like a light. I honestly didn't know if you would make it or not, but I did the best I could for you." He paused a moment to share a warm smile, " And you're standing here now, so I guess my best was enough."

Jill nodded. Perhaps this stranger wasn't so bad after all. He'd saved both her _and _her child. Anyone like that couldn't be evil.

" Thank you. I...seriously, thank you for everything. If there's ever anything we can do to repay..."

Rob shook his head. " Nah. The only thing you can do is stay with me until we find your family and friends. Like I said, there's a lot of nasties out there. And I'm down to my last uzi."

" Consider it done." After last night's trauma, she really wasn't looking to run off again anyway.

Then it clicked. The horrible realization...Jill shot up so fast the fire rose in her wake. Her wide doe-eyes fixed on Rob. " You! How did you know Olivia's name? " This was followed swiftly by another wave of pain from her bite, and another horrible realization. " Oh my god, I've got a virus! "

That was what happened, wasn't it? One bite from a virus carrier was all...it took four seconds for Jill to completely panic.

" Calm down! " Rob rose up slowly so as not to worsen the situation, " Relax! You don't have a virus. You're not going to turn into a zombie. I know Olivia because we've had brief rush-ins before, me and her gang." He wrinkled his nose at something Jill could not see.

" She's a _zombie_! " The terrified red-head cried out, " She bit me! "

Rob put a finger to his mouth. " Shhh! I know, I know. She is. But she...her kind doesn't have a virus. You're in no danger."

Jill took a minute to absorb the words. She fixed Rob's worried stare, and allowed herself to relax a bit. He really did not look like he wanted to harm her. And if she just chilled out for a second, he could tell her more. A bit embarrassed by her extreme outburst, Jill sat back down and shook her head. _Great, he doesn't already think I'm crazy enough, now I have to prove it. Perfect way to get off on the right foot and learn what he knows._

She mentally scolded herself for being so quick to go off the deep end. Time to slow down and take things one bit at a time.

" Alright. Sorry about that."

Rob nodded, satisfied, and sat back down. " Hungry? " He offered Jill a piece of cooked meat, " Eating food builds strength. That's something you could use right now."

Though she was indeed hungry, Jill had to decline. " No thanks." Olivia had ripped off and devoured a not-so-small chunk of her arm last night. Eating red meat lost some of it's appeal after that.

" You sure? " Rob offered, still holding the piece out, " It's just venison."

" I'm _really _not hungry right now. But thanks anyway." How could she think about food after all that was happening?

Rob popped the piece in his mouth. " Well okay then. Suit yourself."

" Now what were you saying about Olivia's kind? There's a new kind of zombie? "

Rob's eyes shifted to the fire, and Jill could see the unease flittering there. " Yes. The truth is, there are two kinds of zombies. The first and most widely-known is the kind you've come to know and hate: the T-virus carriers. I think you've seen them enough not to need a description."

Jill nodded to show she was following. " Uh-huh. One bite or scratch and you're done for. You turn into one of them."

It was Rob's turn to nod. " Correct. The T-carriers...that's the most common type. But there is another type as well--a rare breed only a handful of people know about." He took his roasting stick and dug at the ground aimlessly. " Olivia's type...they're called _royal zombies_. They don't have any type of virus, manmade or otherwise. For once, Umbrella and it's rivals have nothing to do with them."

" That's hard to believe." Jill interrupted, inspecting her carefully wrapped arm with a nervous frown. " How do you know all this? You a commando or something? " She was staring at his outfit.

This warranted a quick laugh from her rescuer. " Commando? Me? Naw. I'm nothing like that. Just trust me when I say I've been around and I get around. The bite of a royal zombie will not make you a zombie. That I know is fact. They have no virus with which to infect you. But royal zombies, as I'm sure you now know, are quite a few rungs above your average T-carrier. They're much stronger and faster than humans. Plus they tend to look, act, and sound like a completely normal person. And since they don't wear neon signs flashing _'I'm A Zombie'_ around their necks they don't really stick out in a crowd. That's what makes them so dangerous. They are like T-carriers only in the sense that they're the living dead and crave the raw flesh and brains of living people. Other than that, they have nothing in common with the creatures you encountered in Raccoon City."

A lump welled in Jill's throat, and she swallowed nervously. " If a company like Umbrella didn't make them, who did? And how is it that they're zombies without having a virus? How many are there? "

Rob poked around some more at the ground with his stick before glancing back at his aluminum foil tray of choice cutlets. Deciding that they no longer looked appetizing, he answered the questions. " Who made them? I don't honestly know, but there are still so many things the laws of science can't explain. There aren't that many. Less than a dozen I'm sure. But if Olivia's here it's a pretty safe bet her pack is too." He snapped the stick in half, tossed it in the flames. " Damn. There's five of them."

Jill was aghast. " But Olivia...I pushed her into the river! "

Rob shook his head. " Merely an inconvenience when you're already dead. It would have taken her awhile to pull out, true. But she's probably back with her friends by now. Which means the whole pack is going to be after you. They don't take that kind of thing lightly."

" The whole pack? " Jill squeaked, " And you've had a run-in with these guys before? "

Rob nodded, his face grim. " Yes. A few run-ins in fact. They don't play by the rules--they play to win. They're incredibly bloodthirsty and they'll stomp whoever gets in their way. Their leader..." He winced, " Their leader's a real badass. Kind of like Wesker only not as powerful."

Now Jill was _very_ worried about both herself and the welfare of the team. " Do they have any weaknesses? "

" Sure. And all of them include a high-powered bullet through the brain."

Jill got up with a start, suddenly anxious to get moving. " We'd better get going then. I have to find the others and warn them! "

Rob rose and caught her gaze. He sent her a gentle smile, which actually did help her feel a little better this time. " Agreed. Let's find your friends and take it from there."


	15. The Hylen

****

Chapter 15

Chris and Claire came to a halt. A pretty blonde-haired woman wearing a flowing pink dress had just stepped into their path. Before either startled Redfield could get out the first syllable she held her out like a traffic cop.

" Stop! "

" Who are you? " Claire gasped, almost breathless from all the running. She silently prayed all this exercise wouldn't hurt the baby. She'd heard horror tales of miscarriages brought on by a surplus of strenuous exercise.

" We're kinda in a hurry here." Chris snapped with all the sweetness of distilled vinegar. How was Alan faring in his battle against Wesker? _A lot better than what I would be, that's what. At least he has a fighting chance._ Though he still didn't quite feel entirely comfortable with the distance they'd procured thus far, he allowed himself to pause a moment to catch his breath; clutching Crystal tightly to his chest as if she were still alive. He hadn't expected to run into anyone, and his mind buzzed with a multitude of questions he never lent voice. Whoever she was, this woman was the least of his worries for the time being. His brain was on overload already and felt like it might explode with too many more added bits of information.

Crystal was dead.

Little Crystal.

God, it was too horrible to be true. All he could think about was his daughter and how he was going to explain this devastating tragedy to Jill and Seth; if he ever saw them again.

Poor Crystal.

" My name is Angelique." The woman announced as if she'd been asked. This was followed by a dry smile, which vaporized the instant she noticed the dead girl in Chris's arms. " I believe I can help you. What you seek is the Hylen."

Claire squinted, not sure she'd heard right. " The Hy-what? " This woman seemed too clean and well-kept to have been on the island long. Indeed, she looked as though she'd just walked away from an elegant dinner party specially for nobles. Radiant, even. This was odd.

Chris's reaction was less pleasant. " No, what I seek is revenge. And a way to find my teammates and get off this accursed island. You can keep this so-called _Hylen_. I've got enough on my plate."

Angelique seemed disappointed. " Oh, forgive me, how terribly rude I've been. This should be a group affair." Before either sibling had time to come up with a reply to that, Angelique waved her hand in the air in an exaggerated circle. " _Ladith Tranjeh! _"

For a fleeting moment, the air shimmered, like ripples in a lake; as if there were a tear in the fabric of reality. Two seconds later, and this was accompanied by a blinding emerald _flash_. And there they stood. Forming a confused, shifty circle around the initial trio were Alan, Seth, Alexis, Spade, Rob, and Jill.

For a precious half-a-second they just stood there, collecting their bearings and coming to terms with yet another strange phenomenon which had whisked them through the folds of space.

_How the hell did she **do **that?! _Was the first thought on Chris's mind, followed swiftly by _uh-oh_.

Jill was the first to cry out. " Crystal! " Being the maternal person she was, that was the first thing that mattered. Not that she'd become accustomed to just _teleporting_ somewhere without a moment's notice, but her kids came first. Always. Breaking the circle, she ran over to stand by her husband and child; an icy chill of dread tearing it's way down her spine and aiding the efforts of her physical injuries.

" Crystal? " Her energetic green eyes urgently swept the limp form in Chris's arms as she tried to determine her daughter's condition. " Is she...is she...? "

Chris hung his head shamefully, like a sinner cast before the gates of Heaven. This was the moment he'd been dreading. God, how was he going to put this? It already wrenched his heart enough seeing her like this.

" I'm...I'm sorry, Jill." His voice cracked, and Jill choked into tears, " I couldn't...I...Wesker...Wesker broke her neck. She's gone." His face was an ashen tomb devoid of all color and life.

This was too much for Jill. A terrible, heart-rending cry of pure undiluted melancholy ripped it's way up through her throat and escaped her mouth in one earsplitting, terrible scream. Her legs turned to jelly and she crumpled to the ground like a delicate newborn fawn which had lost it's footing.

" No...not Crystal. Oh my baby! My baby! " It wasn't fair! This couldn't be happening! This...none of this was right. She barely noticed the rest of the circle standing around in wide-eyed shock and horror. _She was so young...how could he kill a child? An innocent child! Doesn't he have even a shred of a fucking conscience?! That bloody sonuvabitch!_

" Wesker." Chris's eyes burned once again with the all-consuming rage. His lower lip curled up dangerously in a feral sneer. This death he couldn't bear. Wesker _would_ pay for this. If Chris had to hunt him down himself--and risk his own life in the process--then so be it. He would avenge his daughter as well as the S.T.A.R.S. members of long ago and any other unfortunate soul who'd ever been a victim to Wesker's cruelty.

He shut his eyes. It was becoming a real chore for him not to glare at Alan. Though he consciously knew it was not the younger Wesker's fault, a part of him still blamed him for not being able to get there faster. If only Alan had arrived a couple minutes sooner than he did...minutes. Minutes had made the difference between life and death. And it certainly wasn't helping matters that Alan resembled his child-murdering dad.

Claire almost said something, then bit back her forthcoming words. This was between her brother and his wife. What was she going to say anyway? 'At least she's not suffering anymore'? That sounded just plain corny and insincere when said out loud. And, most likely, it was not the kind of thing Jill would be wanting to hear. Poor Jill. Her heart went out to her sister-in-law. _We have to do something about Wesker. For real this time._ He was a threat to everyone, especially her unborn son or daughter. It was getting to the point where not even Alan was going to be safe before long.

" God, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." Alexis condoled, her voice so low it was almost a whisper. Tears slid down the fine skin of her cheeks and settled at the end of her chin before falling silently to the ground. She could scarcely believe it herself. He'd done it. Wesker'd finally done it. She had always thought that somehow, someway, they'd be able to protect the children when the time came. From both hers _and_ Alan's parents. She'd been wrong. They all had.

Seth bit his lip until it almost bled. _I had a sister? I didn't know! Why can't I remember? This is...this is awful. Scratch that. This is the worst thing that's ever happened to me. Which, granted, isn't saying much considering I can't remember 99.5% of the stuff that's ever happened to me. This bites. I don't want to be here anymore. I want to go back home to my own time and have all of this erased from my memory. Like it never happened. _Seeing his parents' grief stung like a dagger through his gut. His eyes welled with crocodile tears.

Alan looked the way he felt: sick. He stood very still, like a statue poised over a grave. " Chris, Jill, I swear Wesker will pay for this." He declared in a firm, unwavering voice, clenching his fists tightly in anger.

They chose not to answer.

Spade looked upon the scene with muted interest. Her father had killed a child. It came as no surprise; she'd heard him talking about wanting to do that for a long time now. However, being here now and actually witnessing not only the death, but the ramifications it had on the parties involved, filled her with a certain sense of...she couldn't quite put her finger on it. All she knew was that she was strangely numb to it all. _Am I supposed to feel...sad? Sorry? Isn't that how people are supposed to feel?_ She hadn't known the kid. What consequence was it to her? Whereas most people were being all _ah, poor little girl, _Spade found herself detached and indifferent. The scary truth was that feeling that way bothered her only slightly.

A sad sigh escaped Rob's lips. He hadn't a clue as to what was happening with the magical teleporting and all, or who Wesker and half the people here were, all he knew was that it broke his heart to see a family like this.

Everyone was so caught up in the Redfield tragedy that they barely noticed that there were some people present whom they did not readily recognize, or that one member of the gang was missing.

Angelique stood back, watching it happen as if from afar. Once the formalities were over, she could address the group. She did not have long to wait.

" How'd we...? " Alan started.

" Who's that? " Alexis's eyes fell on Rob.

" Who are you? " Claire prodded Seth.

That was her cue. Now Angelique broke in. " Hear me out. It was I who assembled you here. My name is Angelique and I am a white witch."

" You look more blonde to me." Seth threw wryly, unsure what to think of a woman who made such a bold claim.

" A _witch?! _" Several of the group gasped at once.

Sixteen eyes turned on Angelique. She was the honored speaker at the podium.

" Are you saying you caused us to...appear here? " Alexis asked, wincing at the discomfort caused by her arm. For awhile there it had stopped hurting. Now it decided to be a royal bitch and kick in again.

" Yes. It was I who summoned you. I excluded the one called _Wesker_ because I am aware that he has no friends here."

" That's the biggest understatement of all time." Chris grumped.

Angelique gave a disheartened nod in the direction of the Redfields, a wounded expression engraved upon her alabaster features. " I am sorry for your loss. Now before I continue on--and believe me, I will answer all your questions--it appears some of you have some catching up to do. I believe introductions are in order? "

Claire blinked. " You got that right. Who's he? " She pointed again to Seth. Something about his looks, the way he carried himself...it all seemed so familiar. Like an old acquaintance from the past with a face but no name.

Seth was incredulous. " Me? Okay, since we seem to be subscribing to the ideas of witches and the sort, suddenly telling the truth doesn't feel so insane. Whether or not you choose to believe me or not, I am Seth Redfield. I'm from the future. And before you even ask it, no: I don't know how I ended up here other than the fact that it involved a very psychedelic portal, and no, I don't remember much about my own time. I sorta have amnesia in the details department there." After his little speech, the dark-haired young Redfield scanned the crowd; in particular, his parents.

The only thing that would have shocked Chris more was if his daughter suddenly started breathing again. He gazed at Seth in wide-eyed wonder. " You're my....son? Seth? "

Seth nodded, pinning his father's astounded gaze. " That's right. I'm sixteen years old right now. My past-self is only five." He awarded Alexis a half-smile. " Alexis and Alan filled me in. I guess they saved my child-self and--_bam_--before any of us knew it, here I am while my kid-self probably traveled to the future."

Spade cocked her head to one side, not quite sure what to believe anymore. " You're Chris's son? Wow." Her eyes traveled up his legs, to his torso, then finally met his face. " I thought you'd be...taller."

Just the slightest inkling of a frown made itself known at the edges of Seth's lips. " Hey! I'm plenty tall. And I'm not even finished growing yet, Wesker-girl."

Spade snorted. " Wesker-girl? My name is Spade! Or didn't Alan tell you that? " She cast a playful eye to her brother, making it clear that she was only having fun.

Alan's frown subsided slightly. " Actually I told him you were going to an all-girls catholic school in Guatemala." He teased.

Through her curtain of tears, Jill looked up and for the first time took notice of Seth. There he was. The young man claiming to be her son. She wouldn't have believed him if not for his friendly fudge-brown eyes, his fresh-yet-at-the-same-time-strikingly-familiar face, the diction with which he spoke...all down to the special inflections in his voice. They were all her agents.

This really _was_ Seth. Time had done it's work, but she recognized him just the same. The way any mother would recognize her child. There was just a certain _right_ feel to it.

She thought he looked very handsome. He wasn't quite as tall as his father yet, but he was right; he still had a few more years to grow. As it stood now he wasn't exactly the posterboy for short--he was only a few inches below Alan.

She couldn't believe it. Magic, witches, talking zombies, and now her son from the future? What kind of crazy wacko place was the world turning into?!

This was insane.

This was impossible.

This was...happening.

It was much to real to be a dream, and, no, she hadn't eaten and colorful mushrooms lately. And after everything else she'd been through....sure, why not? She was aware she should probably meet his gaze; say something. Give her son some indication that she acknowledged his presence.

But no. Instead, she buried her face between her hands and resumed crying. While knowing that her son was alive gave her extreme pleasure, little Crystal's death was just too much to bear.

_Okay, so maybe she needs some...time_. Seth thought in response to his mother's actions. Not that he blamed her. This was a lot for anyone to absorb.

Now, people deal with grief and stressful situations in a variety different ways. Seth's way was to point out the positive and be thankful at least for the little things. The few little things that still made life worth living. Without warning, he threw an arm each around the necks of a startled Alan and Alexis and pulled them close to his sides in a massive friendship hug.

" Yep, it's really me. And these are my best buds in any time or space, Alan and Alexis! " In spite of the total lack of happiness he was feeling, he managed to pull off a dry half-smile.

Alan couldn't even pretend to smile. " Um...yeah. Feelings mutual." He pulled away with ease. _Sure sucks to be a Wesker right now. _ He just couldn't feel comfortable around the brother of the child murdered by his father. Right now the Redfields were the last people he wanted to see.

Alexis gave Seth a warm pat on the back with the delicate hand of her good arm. " Aw, that's really sweet of you Seth." She cuddled up to him a bit, realized what she was doing, and drew back. An awkward look overcame her fine Ashford features. She turned away.

Only to almost bump noses with Spade.

Alexis's cobalt eyes lit up in mild surprise. " Oh. Hi Spade. How did you get here? I mean, to the island. "

Spade twisted her cherry-red lips into an expression which was hard to decipher. " Came with my father." The words were swift and to the point.

Alexis stifled the urge to blink. " I see." _Gee is it just me, or did the temperature just drop several degrees?_

Alexis had no love for Wesker. The one time they'd met he'd tried to murder her, saying she wasn't good enough for his son. He was a dangerous sociopath and she would do well to stay as far off his radar as possible.

As for Spade, well, Alexis didn't really know quite what to make of her yet. She'd only seen her a few times before in Africa and there had never been much interaction between them. She recalled that Alan's knowledge of his sister was limited as well, because he'd been largely out of contact with his sister for the past six years or so. A person could change a lot in that time. This may not be the same Spade Alan remembered.

Alexis found herself wary of her. She didn't know why--just a feeling.

" I'm Rob." Rob announced before anyone had the chance to ask, " That's all that's important right now. I helped Jill after she was attacked." He nodded towards Chris. " I believe Chris and I have already met."

Chris turned his head away with a scowl deep enough to sink the Titanic. " Yeah. Thanks for your help." He said, and it may as well have been a robot talking for all the emotion he put into those five simple words.

But given the circumstances--after all, the guy's daughter had just died--Rob didn't take offense. This hadn't been a good day for any of them.

Angelique strode over to stand in the center of the irregular circle; her long blonde hair glistening with a magical aura. " Alright," She declared, her voice loud and clear, " You probably have a lot more to catch up on, but for the moment none of that is important. You've..."

" Hey! " Claire interrupted. Someone was missing. Someone like her husband. " Where's Steve? " A concerned frown marred her features. If Steve wasn't here, where was he? The island was not a safe place, even for someone with super-healing abilities. Especially not when Wesker was out there somewhere.

At this, everyone exchanged blank glances. Spade actually shrugged. She'd never seen the man before in her life, how was she to know?

" Yeah, where is Steve? " Chris echoed.

Angelique frowned. " I'm sorry, I thought I'd called you all here. But if I couldn't call this person it mean's they're either beyond my range, inside an area shielded from my magic, or...." She trailed off, letting the others pick it up on their own.

" So he could be...." Claire's voice almost cracked. _No. He couldn't be. He's alive. Have to believe in that... _He just _had_ to be alright. They'd seen enough misery already.

Angelique shook her head slowly, but a resilient spark of hope still dwelled within her eyes. " He might be, but not necessarily. Look, I didn't take all the risks of gathering you all here with me now just to make idle conversation and have a social event. I know you're all very devastated by the child's death. You're miserable and you want to get off this nightmarish island as soon as possible. But you have to know the truth. You have to know what's at stake. Your lives as well as the lives of countless billions now hang in the balance."

" You know what's going on with this island? " Chris asked, shifting the weight of his dead daughter to a more comfortable position.

Angelique nodded. Time for the next phase. Time for a little demonstration. " Yes. First thing you need to know...magic is real." Suddenly the witch was aglow with a luminous white aura of energy. Then, in the time it takes for a bolt of lightning to hurl across the sky, there was a blazing _flash_ and the next thing any of them knew Angelique was gone. In her place, sitting upright on it's haunches upon the carpet of moss and pine, and twitching it's cute little whiskers excitedly, was a squirrel. A squirrel with fur as white as fresh milk and eyes as red as blood. As awed gasps racked the gathering, the Angelique-squirrel darted up Claire's pants, climbed her shirt, and leapt into her hands.

" Ah!" Was Claire's startled reply, " I....I don't believe this! This is crazy! " Her hands were shaking so much she would've dropped the furry forest critter if not for it's firm grip. It's fur was a pleasant touch; nice and soft against her skin. More like rabbit-fur than squirrel-fur. The tail was perfectly bushy. Tiny feet tickled her palms. She half expected it to bite her, but it didn't. Instead it just sat there calmly, staring up at her with those fiery red eyes.

" Whoa! That's _awesome! _" Seth declared, and the general company shared his opinion. This was not some lame parlor trick. Astounding as it was, as unbelievable and insane as it was, only _real_ magic could transform a woman into a squirrel. This was quite a revelation. But given all the odd things that had been happening to them ever since the freak storm hit yesterday, it was surprising easy to believe.

The Angelique-squirrel jumped out of Claire's hand and scrambled over close to the spot it had stood. Another flash of light which lasted the duration of a nano-second, and it transformed back into the fair Angelique.

" See? " She smiled, " No mirrors. This is the real McCoy." The smile vanished. " Now we don't have a lot of time so I have to make this quick. Listen and I will tell you a story. No matter how incredible it sounds, you have to believe that I'm telling the truth."

" You just turned into a squirrel." Alan breathed, still reeling with the discovery, " I think you have our undivided attention."

Angelique went on, " Hundreds of years ago on this very island stood the fortress of a very powerful, very evil sorceress named Veronica. Her ultimate goal was world domination where she would reign as Queen and everyone else would be subjected to torture, humility, slavery, and extreme poverty at her dispense. What makes this different from the usual evil-villain-trying-to-rule-the-world case was that Veronica actually had the power to do it. She was the best of the best: the most powerful magical being in the world. As such, it only stands to reason that most magic-users however noble or brave didn't dare to oppose her. There was one exception. A band of 14 white witches, myself included, took it upon ourselves to stop her. We conjured up all our mystical energies, focused them into one channel, and were thus able to create the Hylen; a magical staff of unequaled power born from the essence of the purest light on earth. It's soul purpose was to defeat Veronica. Sadly, our actions did not escape the sharp eye of one of Veronica's spies and the sorceress caught onto us. During that time, she went about separating us from one another and killing us off one by one. Each witch she slaughtered served only to increase her power. At last only my sister and I remained to guard the Hylen. Veronica caught us by surprise one night as we were devising a plan to use it against her. My sister managed to escape while I fought the deranged sorceress. But..." Angelique shook her head sadly, " well...I'll just put it this way...take one of those tiny sports cars and set it loose on the freeway. Now run it head-on with a semi going 70 mph. That's me versus Veronica."

Alexis was impressed. " Wow. Talk about unevenly matched."

Angelique sighed." She's got free access to powers I can't even invoke."

" Let me guess: you lost." Spade inferred.

Angelique nodded a sad 'yes'. " I lost. I never got to hold on to the Hylen long enough to use it. I thought for sure I was going to die right there that very night. But Veronica was in a fairly good mood about having murdered her only real opposition and gaining such a powerful mystical relic as the Hylen. She would have loved to extract it's powers for herself, but like I said, the Hylen was forged from the essence of the purest light on earth. It could only be used against evil, not for it. Which rendered it useless in her hands. Yet at the same time, it was also indestructible. Not to be outdone, Veronica managed to magically separate it into five pieces which she scattered throughout the fabric of time and space. She may not be able to destroy it, but she could at least keep people from using it against her. You see it takes an incredible amount of magic to time-travel so that cuts back on potential salvage teams right away, and she further sealed the deal by adding a little charm to the spell which prevents any magic-users other than herself from ever being able to access the proper dimensions with which within the pieces are hidden. She spared my life...probably figured that the humility of being among the last of my kind would be enough to discourage me from ever rising against her again. She was wrong. It was not long after that that I met up with another powerful sorceress long thought dead from her habit of living in secrecy. Together we devised a trap for Veronica. 150 years ago we managed to magically bind her inside an ornate gold-washed teacup...."

" Whoa there, time out. Time out! " Alexis called, eyes brimming with wild excitement, " You imprisoned Veronica inside a _teacup_ _150_ _years ago?_ "

" That's correct." Angelique agreed.

Alexis was taken aback. Her mouth fell open in a little 'o'. " I had an ancestor named Veronica who was presented a gold teacup at around the same time! "

All eyes shifted swiftly to her.

" Veronica had the surname _Ashford_. That sound familiar to you? " Angelique pressed.

" _Familiar?! _That's _my_ last name! You mean to say that this sorceress Veronica was my ancestor? " _My ancestor Veronica was an evil sorceress?!_

" Indeed." Angelique agreed, now unable to take her gaze off the young Ashford.

" Seems evil runs in your family." Spade chuckled, her remark aimed at Alexis.

Any other time Alexis would have met this jest with the reply that the Weskers were not known for their hospitality, but at the present moment she was just too astonished with the fact that her great great great great grandmother was an evil sorceress who had tried to rule the world. _So that's where Mom gets it. Who'd have guessed?_

" But that's impossible! " Chris cut in, " Veronica is dead! I snooped all over their Rockfort and Antarctic bases and all the notes, papers, and diaries I found said so! She couldn't be alive after 150 years! "

Angelique gave a wane smile. " If only that were true. I'm over 150 years old and _I'm_ still alive. Likewise, Veronica has been around much longer than a mere 150 years. In fact, it would take centuries to accumulate the type of power she had. Witches and sorceresses...we don't age the same way you mortals do. I'm 232 years old and I can expect to live at least another six hundred. But Veronica...she's so powerful she's staved off aging permanently. In other words, she's immortal."

" Now that's not fair." Spade observed. Alexis had her back turned, so she never noticed the jealous look Spade sent her way. Neither did anyone else, apparently.

" What exactly is the difference between a witch and a sorcerer...er, sorceress...whatever." Claire asked.

" Mostly in rites, beliefs, and spiritual customs." Angelique answered, " And in magic. A sorcerer is more powerful than a warlock or witch. But it takes them many times longer to attain that power and they have to work much harder at it."

" Wait a second. Rewind to the part where Veronica was trapped inside the teacup, because I think my brain jumped off the bandwagon there." Seth announced, wiping a hand across his temple. The jungle-humidity was really starting to set in. He arched his back against a tree while he waited.

" Yes, the teacup." Angelique went on, " There she should have stayed for all eternity. We magically re-enforced that cup to make it unbreakable. Then we took the all the magical essence away from her infant son so that he could lead a normal life. I don't know how it is that she managed to pull free after so long. But yesterday...the moment she broke free, I felt it...."

" A disturbance in the force? " Alan mused.

The good witch laughed at the Star Wars reference. " Yes, something like that. More like a shudder in the ether. Anyone fine-tuned to vibrational frequencies, or familiar at all with earth-forces and magic would have felt it."

" A.k.a. not us." Chris added wryly. He looked so much older than thirty-three right then. " So she would be the one responsible for the freak-storm yesterday and the lightning bolt that sent us all off to places we didn't want to be? "

" None other." Angelique wrinkled her nose in distaste, " She always was a showoff. _Oh look at me! I'm a badass sorceress! Fear me. No, better yet, kneel down and worship me, vermin! _"

" Okay, so big bad Veronica Ashford's free and wants to rule the world..." Claire started.

" Actually, this time it's much worse than that."

" Worse than that? " Jill finally spoke up for the first time since finding out about Crystal, " How does it get any worse than that?! " She threw her hands up into the air for effect. This day was just getting worse and worse.

Angelique stared down at the ground. " Mass destruction. I'm talking on a global scale. Veronica succeeds at midnight tonight and she will unleash catastrophic natural disasters that will kill over ¾ of life on earth. A literal _'Doom's Day'_. Tsunamis as tall as mountains. Hurricanes the size of continents. Earthquakes. Floods. Storms of fire and ice. Tornados so powerful science doesn't yet have a class for them. Devastating plagues. All at once. Lasting for weeks."

Alan blinked. " I don't get it. Why does Veronica want to do this? What could she possibly gain? "

" She wants to start the world anew, a world with her own creatures, plants, and landforms. Call it playing God. Oh sure--she'll keep a couple million people alive, but only as subjects to worship, serve, and fear her."

" Why midnight tonight? I mean, if she only got free yesterday...don't you think that's moving kinda fast? " Alan pointed out.

" Yeah," Seth agreed, " What, no time to raise the mojo or gather the dark juice? "

" The spell has to be performed at midnight on a night when all nine planets are aligned." Angelique announced matter-of-factly, " That's the only thing holding her back. Believe me, Veronica already has all the _dark juice _she needs."

" Planetary alignment." Rob's voice was serious and quiet, " That's tonight."

" Coincidence much? " Spade observed.

" Actually, I believe it was predestiny." Angelique stated sadly.

" Great! Predestiny kicking in when you don't want or ask for it! " Seth beamed with false cheer, " Darn! And that's always happening to me. What are the odds? "

" They're all against us, that's what." Chris returned darkly. He turned to Angelique. " You mean to say that somehow even while she was in teacup-land Veronica had this type of power? If that's the case, why didn't she free herself sooner? I mean, planetary alignments are rare, but not so rare that you have to wait centuries to see one."

Angelique shrugged. " I don't know. While imprisoned Veronica was powerless. The only ones who could have arranged this were her previous acolytes. All I know for a fact is that this awakening was preordained. A couple decades ago I had heard rumors of a prophecy relating to it, but I was never able to locate it. My source died quickly and under mysterious circumstances before I could get more out of him."

" As sources often do." Rob agreed.

" I'm more worried about how we're going to stop Miss Ashford." Chris scowled. He looked to Angelique expectantly. " That is why you gathered us here. Right? There's something we can do to stop her? "

" This island....Majika Island...is her place of power. Here the walls separating time, reality, and even alternate dimensions are weak. Even weaker since her arrival. Yes, there is a chance we can stop her. But we must hurry. If Veronica finds out you people are here she'll send every magical 'pet' she has after you. She doesn't want anyone getting ahold of the Hylen, the only thing that can stop her."

" Yeah because that worked such wonders for you last time." Chris muttered gloomily.

" Last time I didn't get the chance to use it! " Angelique threw, sounding almost offended, " If I were to have it again I swear history will not repeat."

" And how are we going to get it again? " Spade asked, " I mean, if Veronica hid the pieces throughout the fabric of time...."

" And here the fabric of time is weak." Angelique stated simply. " I may not be able to time-travel personally thanks to Veronica's hex on the magically inclined, but I have just enough power to generate time-portals that will pull a random few of _you _into them. Once inside, you will have exactly eight hours to find and retrieve a piece of the magic staff. You can't miss it, it's a very beautiful wood as white as snow with tiny magical carvings of gold forming special runes in it. The tip has a small garnet orb the color of old red wine. Once the eight hours are up, my spell will end and you'll be magicked back here with or without the piece, so please, keep the sight-seeing to a minimum."

" That sounds very nice and all," Alan said, " but why randomly? Can't we pick and choose who goes where? "

" I'm afraid not. That would require a witch of a higher level. Suffice to say, I don't have that much power, so it has to be random. Sorry."

Now Spade was really excited. " Do you know what time-eras they'll be? "

Angelique shook her head. " No. All I know is that Veronica most likely has a charm on the spell that varies depending upon the user. She doesn't want anyone to succeed, so I'm guessing that it's a worse-case scenario for that particular person. For example, say you're afraid of heights. Then the time-shifter might throw you to a high mountain range in a time before aircraft were invented so your chances would be slim. I'm not going to lie to you: it's not without it's risks. But we need to win this fight, and we can't do that without the Hylen. Are you in? "


	16. Dead End

**Chapter 16**

By now Steve was getting pretty frustrated. Seemed these earthen passages went clear to Canada. Futile hours had been spent following the strange glowy ruins emblazoned on the sides of the walls. Brilliant orange and gold flames danced at the tips of the torches lighting the way.

He was exhausted.

Sweat glistened from his forehead and trickled down his neck.

Sure was hot down here. Hot enough to fry eggs, probably. Amazing that he didn't suffocate being in an enclosed area, but the passages seemed to be fed by invisible cracks and crevices into which oxygen spilled. The trip through the unknown wasn't anywhere close to comfortable. And the volcanic fumes were really starting to rub him the wrong way. But at least there was air and, hey, he hadn't keeled over dead yet, so there was a plus.

No more lava flows either.

Good, good.

Still, the tunnels had worn out their welcome. No matter what the deal, it was just too hard to enjoy the scenic native-passages with all their beautiful, glowing symbols and the constant rumble of an unstable Mt. Fulcan when the words 'You Will Die Soon' were rendered in dripping blood from the side of a solid rock wall.

Yep, it was amazing how fast a place lost it's appeal after that.

Thus far the volcano's reluctant explorer had been wandering around quite a while without finding so much as one pathway which looked different from the rest. It got very tedious wandering around for hours without food, water, or a clue as to where exactly he was and how to get out. Once or twice he'd paused to doze off alongside a nice warm wall. Then it was back to being a rat in a maze.

He rounded another corner--this one _gasp _actually looked _different_--and found himself in a rather large area about the size of a gym. A pair of torches hung at the end of the far wall; chasing away the darkness and lighting the way to a dead end.

Steve studied the room with mounting interest. Well well, surprise surprise; only _two _weird Mad Hatter-esque glowing symbols in this room. It must not have been special. If it were, he figured, it would've been covered in ruins.

_Great, I'm lost in a maze designed by the Mad Hatter! _It was like some lunatic's demented sanctuary where everything was turned upside down and nothing made sense.

Quite tiresome. All he wanted to do was get out, and the sooner the better. Was that too much to ask?

" Phft! Another dead end! "

Something was strange about the dirt here though...it was darker and appeared to be more loosely packed; in fact, now that he thought about it, the whole room smelled stale and deathly. Like the way those A&E archeologists were always describing the smell of a mummy's tomb.

Steve shuddered despite the total lack of cold. This all felt wrong. Very wrong. His spider sense was tingling.

" Well, ooookay," He stated, finding the sound of his own voice oddly comforting, " I guess I'll just turn around and..."

But he had already stayed too long.

All at once, the loose, dark soil in front of him began to shift and move.

" Huh?! What the..." He should run, he knew. But some quirk in his nature--a little too much curiosity, perhaps--kept Steve glued to his spot watching the strange phenomenon.

There was very little sound as the dirt parted and something white and gleaming made it's first poke from the ground.

Squinting, Steve tried to bring the thing into clearer focus. _What **is** that? _There was little time to wonder, however, as all around the room earth was moving and more of the white things were rising up; some quicker and more forceful than others. One of the rising white things had what were undisputedly claws attached to what might be toes...a _paw?!_

Those white things were bones!

All the color drained from Steve's face. _Bones?! Bone animals! That's it! I'm outta here! _Chances were an all-bones monster was not going to be friendly. He was about to turn and bolt when the ground right beneath the twin torches exploded outward in a shower of dirt and rock!

" Yeeiii! "

A gleaming white skeleton now stood confidently on all fours, shaking a few stubborn bits of earth from it's dead frame.

Steve recognized the shape immediately.

_A dog. _he realized with fright, _It's the skeleton of a dog! _The animal's skull with the elongated snout and several sharp canine teeth gave that away. The dog itself was big-boned--perhaps it might have been a Great Dane in life. There wasn't a single strip of flesh clinging to one spot on the entire dirt-ridden body.

As it's buddies continued to animate around it, the skeleton-dog turned it's bleached-white head on Steve. Instead of eyes, a bright red flame of light burned in each of the empty sockets, fixing the human prey with a cold glare which seemed to suck all the life out of him.

" You trespass on sacred ground." A man's voice boomed from everywhere and nowhere at once, filling the entire boneyard with it's ageless echo, " Your life is forfeit."

Steve yelped in surprise, then backed away rapidly. This was too much. No amount of curiosity was going to hold him there _now_.

" Forfeit?! " He echoed, spinning on his heel like and rocketing back the way he'd came, " I'm very sorry to have disturbed your pet cemetery, but it's not like you had signs posted or anything. You really oughta give a person more warning! "

There was no reply.

Figured. Booming ghostly voices could be so impolite.

Steve raced on like the hounds from hell were chasing him; which, he supposed, actually wasn't all that far-fetched. Legs pumping at full speed, he tried desperately to remember every little twist and turn ahead.

Too close behind, an indescribable howl of rage and fury betrayed the pursuing demon dogs.

How many were there? Ten? Twelve? Steve barely cared. Even one was way too many to handle. _And how can skeletons move with no muscles? Of course, I guess it shouldn't come as such a big shock in a cave with bleeding walls. There's something seriously **wrong **with this island._

Seriously wrong was an understatement. A freak flash of lightning from a freak storm had sent him here, and everything about this was quickly catching up to Rockfort and Antarctica in terms of freakiness.

His mind spluttered with the possibilities. The island was haunted. Or cursed. Maybe both.

And not for the first time in his relatively young life, Steve Burnside was scared senseless.

Ever since Rockfort he'd grown to accept the fact that there were monsters out there. _Real _monsters. Zombies. Mutations. Horrible, horrible mutations sporting one big, long, elastic arm while the other was a shriveled stump. Things which looked liked furless apes. Frankenstein tyrant creatures. The walking dead.

All were the result of viruses, viruses created by Umbrella and it's rivals for bio-organic warfare and possibly world domination. Steve had come face to face with these abominations and managed to survive. That was a miracle in itself.

But this time was different. Good as Umbrella was with viral warfare and bio-engineering, there was no way they could have conjured up a freak storm from a clear blue sky. It was also more likely that cats would turn vegetarian and start speaking Spanish than Umbrella mastering the art of teleportation.

However, Umbrella's scientists learning to teleport, though extremely improbable, was at least remotely _possible_. Them being able to make limestone bleed and animate the all-bones skeletons of the dogs now chasing him was not.

Every ghost story he'd ever read or heard came back on him; flashing through his mind in a whirlwind of terror. Skeleton dogs with blazing crimson eyes and more than enough life to chase him down...

No, Umbrella wouldn't be able to do something like this.

But a necromancer could.

Black magic. That had to be it.

_And here I thought that magic didn't exist. Shows what I knew. Oh god, what happened here? Wait, no. Scratch that. I don't want to know. I just want out!_

The narrow volcanic paths twisted and twirled in an insane maze beneath the ominous Mt. Fulcan. Even as he ran, the torches in front of him went out with an unfelt wind. The blazing red symbols grew brighter...now they looked more like bloody cuts in the walls.

Steve couldn't read them, but it was a pretty safe bet he wouldn't want to even if he could.

On and on he ran--until his legs felt like cooked spaghetti and his heart hammered heavily in his chest, threatening to burst if he didn't stop soon. _Oh god...._

Whoever had designed these tunnels had done it right. Steve felt as if he'd run clear up the mountain and back down again.

Three times.

" I give up! " Exhausted, he stopped; rested against one of the hot walls, sweat cascading off his tired form by the bucketfuls.

Were the dogs still chasing him?

Maybe. Probably. He didn't hear them right now, but, of course, that meant absolutely nothing. For all he knew the ghastly specters could run through walls.

Oh, and wasn't _that _a cheery thought?

With lack of anything better to do while he regained his breath, Steve took the liberty of looking around. It was almost pitch black save one glowing symbol the size of a dinner plate shaped like a 'v' with a slash through it. He had no idea what it meant.

_Probably not a good-luck symbol._

It was too dark now to even see where he was, or which way the path continued. No question about it, if those skeleton dogs caught up with him now, he was just going to be out of luck.

It was then that a powerful stench hit his nose; the unmistakable rot of dead flesh. _But of course, Why am I surprised? There's always gotta be dead things. Question is, who? Or what? And..._Suddenly nauseous, he felt a lump swell at the back of his throat, _Where at?_

All of a sudden Steve was thankful for the complete enveloping darkness. He didn't want to think about what he may be standing by...or--oh please don't let it be this--_in_.

Minutes slipped by without skeletons or some other nasty beastie leaping in, and the trapped man tried to clear his head. Ok. So he was all alone in the underground passages of the damned where walls bled, torches went on and off on their own accord, creepy voices came with no owners, and being nothing but bones wasn't enough to stop guard dogs from defending their final resting places.

Was he forgetting anything?

Oh yes.

There was no way out. And that was the worst part of all.

_That' can't be true,_ Steve's brain argued, and he brushed a strand of sweat away from his forehead with an unsteady hand, _There has to be a way out. There's **gotta **be. All I have to do is find it. Now think logically here...the hotter it gets and the more the ground slopes downwards means I'm going deeper into the volcano, a strict no-no. What I want is to be climbing uphill where the air is cooler. And next torch I find that's lit I'm grabbing. Have to be able to see where I'm going too._

Determination set in. It was a good plan. Problem was, the tunnels wove about like the fabled Minotaur's labyrinth, and the fiend torches which lined the walls lacked loyalty and were always fading on and off with a mind of their own.

Once again his eyes found the glowing ruin. This was like a puzzle. Perhaps there was a pattern to the symbols which would help him find his way out? Had to be it. Someone's sadistic version of a game. _The point of it is that the symbols are here for a reason, and that's a clue about the passages themselves._

Without warning, a spark flashed! Before Steve had time to even register it blazed into a full-fledged fire caught on the end of a torch that had until then been lost to the blanket of darkness.

At the moment, however, magic torches were the least of his worries.

He had detected the source of the stench he had been trying not to think about for the past few minutes. Sprawled out before him--almost touching his shoes--was the limp form of a large black housecat.

With no head.

_Oh gross! Grossgrossgrossgross_....he was about to step over it when the furry form got up and stood to face him...red blood and masses of tissue spilling from what was left of it's neck.

Now, a headless cat cannot growl.

But Steve swore, this one did. 


	17. Sacrifices

****

Chapter 17

_Chapleton, England, 1508 ( Renaissance )_

A warm wind carried the sweet scent of nature along the dusty narrow streets of a busy Chapleton. It was a beautiful summer day--the kind which is neither too cold nor too hot, but always seems to stay just right--and in the central part of town people of all ages were out enjoying the kind weather and taking part in one of the biggest faires the populace had seen in years. Nobles, yeomen, servants, and peasants alike flocked around the many stands and booths, eager to get their fair share of what foods, fabrics, toys, supplies, and fine jewelry the sellers had to offer.

Merchants from all over the Mediterranean took up residence along the busy streets, each peddling this and that and showing off all the latest gadgets and inventions.

It was noisy.

It was chaotic.

Veronica was in Heaven.

Four years had passed since that awful night back in Stratford. The red-headed wiccan daughter was now 16, and had since traded in her more innocent, childish looks for the finer-toned features of a young adult. Flowing strawberry waves of hair glinted gold in the sunlight. Her skin, though tanned slightly from hours spent in the sun, glowed with health. The mysterious blue-violet of the night colored her eyes, giving them a mesmerizing, magical quality. Her form had filled out perfectly over the years. Well, pretty close to perfectly. Personally, Veronica relished the idea of losing some of the weight she'd gained during pregnancy. That would not be a bad thing, not at all.

Indeed, the quality of the fair maiden's life had improved drastically in the years following the tragedy. Shortly after relocating to a more hospital stretch of land, she had married her rescuer, James Stilling. Now she, her husband, two-year old son Kit, and year-old twin daughters, Meg and Anne, lived in a small cottage a few miles out of town in the untamed English countryside.

And, aside from the extra weight of course, life just seemed to be getting better and better.

James had fallen in good with some of the more upper-class people and his social status had risen. Now he made money as a carpenter. While it didn't make them rich, it put food on the table plus left a little over for daily expenses and the purchase of a few livestock.

Having a husband which earned enough on his own to get the family by freed Veronica up to spend as much time as she needed with her new family. Which was quite a bit. You never knew just how much work babies were until you had some. The new mother seldom got a chance to rest between making sure the twins were fed, clothed, bathed, and cared for. And little Kit was lively as a chipmunk, constantly crawling around the floors and putting a great deal of things he shouldn't into his mouth. In fact, this nasty habit had gotten him sick once already when he'd drunken some bacteria-infested water from a mud puddle outside.

Veronica loved all her children very dearly. Their ills were her ills. She would run to Hell and back for them. She strived to be the best mother she could.

But try as she may, Veronica Stilling simply was not capable of watching three babies at once. Not without James's help. And he was gone a good part of each day. Cheers.

Today was one of the rare exceptions. James had the day off, and he had been more than happy to spend some good old-fashioned fatherly time with his offspring while their mother took a much-needed break to go shopping. Always thinking ahead, he was planning on starting a garden soon so the family could grow some of their own fruits and vegetables, slashing the amount they spent on food.

_Pick out a few hearty plant seeds while you're there, _he had said, handing Veronica a few coins to spend at the faire, _Cabbage, melons, and carrots would be best. _Then he had kissed her sweetly on the lips and sent her merrily on her way with a tail-warning of _Oh, and Veronica, please, no more **candles**!_

Of course, James may as well have been talking to Kit for all the good it did him. Veronica had already slipped off into a dream world all her own.

Shopping! The very meaning of life!

And what better place than the faire? It was the talk of the town--a major event.

A dream come true.

But dreams can sometimes turn into nightmares.

Veronica was barely on the outskirts of the faire, minding her own business, when it happened. A dashing jewelry stand stationed regally between a clothes-peddler and a horseshoe-seller caught the young housewife's eye and teased her with it's sparkling bobbles. _Jewelry! _Veronica had always adored fine gems. They reminded her of stars twinkling in the nighttime sky. Of magic. And hope.

Temptation called, and for a moment Veronica fought it. She really didn't have the money to buy any jewelry. What was the point in getting all excited over something she could not have? _But it can't hurt to just look, _part of her argued, _Not all these salespeople are out to swindle unsuspecting consumers out of a deal._ _Hmm. Maybe I'll find something really pretty for cheap! I could use a new necklace..._

That was that. Peas and carrots, or whatever the heck it was that James wanted, could just wait. An excited Veronica trotted over to the stand, straw-woven basket bouncing merrily in her hand.

The elderly woman behind the table looked up and flashed her a smile full of crooked, yellow teeth. " 'Afternoon Miss! How may I help ye today? "

_Huh? _Veronica paused, tilting her head to one side, eying the woman curiously. _English! Uh-oh! _She winced, feeling like a fish out of water. Why did it have to be English?

Ever since they'd been together, James had been trying to teach her the language. Each day he insisted she was making progress, and each day Veronica couldn't help but to think that he was just saying that to make her feel better. For making such 'progress', English-speaking people still tended to stare at her oddly whenever she tried to express herself in their tongue.

It was all just a big fat bother.

Would it kill anyone to speak French?

" Afternoon Miss," Veronica replied in broken English, her powerful French accent betraying the fact that she was a novice in the language, " Just cooking."

The crooked-toothed jewelry peddler arched an eyebrow and stared at her strangely, as if she had just announced herself the Queen of England.

Veronica turned a pale shade of red. _Blew it! _So much for trying to fit in.

" I beg thy pardon Miss? "

Veronica heaved a defeated sigh. There was no use pretending. She would have been better off not talking and giving the impression she was stupid than opening her mouth and removing all doubt.

" Sorry. I'm not speak English good."

The old woman laughed, and it was a real struggle for Veronica to avoid calling her a French swearword.

So she wasn't good in English. So what? Plenty of people out there couldn't speak it at all. _At least I make the effort! I'll bet she doesn't know French. Why can't I make fun of her for that? Oh. That's right. Because this is a primarily English-speaking city. And why do I live her again? I knew James and I should have settled in France!_

" That's for sure! " The old woman snickered, then calmed down, noting the sour expression on Veronica's face and with it the dawning realization that she was in danger of losing a customer. " Really though, it's okay, M'lady." She tapped her withered old fingers against the white-clothed table lovingly. " Ye find one ye like? "

Shifting the basket to her left hand, Veronica bent over and studied the sparkling array of gems laid out before her. Some were clearly cheap trinkets while others shone with a more genuine quality. Necklaces, rings, brooches, earrings...there was no end to the colors, variations, sizes, and styles. Most of them were fairly reasonably priced. Pretty enough. But nothing to get excited over.

Having satisfied her curiosity, Veronica was just about to turn and head off for the veggies stand when a dazzling glimmer of red caught the corner of her eye.

There, blazing bright and proud in the sunlight in all it's splendor, was a magnificent bloodred garnet attached to a lavish silver band. It was the most beautiful ring Veronica had ever seen. The rich red hues of the gemstone fluctuated from darker to lighter depending on the angle from which light was refracted, so it was forever sparkling and glinting, never looking quite the same from one moment to the next. _It's perfect! Now if only the price..._

Gingerly, Veronica touched a slender fingertip atop the garnet ring. " How much? "

The old jewelry peddler's eyes lit up at the inquiry, and Veronica's spirits sank. It was never a good sign when dealers did that. She braced herself for the worst.

" Ah, thou likest the garnet ring. Legend has it that this ring was once worn on the right hand of the ill-fated Lady Depruét herself--the same woman the evil Lord Valerian murdered in the Forbidden Woods. A rare gem. I'll sell for say, one sovereign. A bargain."

Now of the few words Hag-tooth had said that Veronica readily understood, the price was definitely among them.

" What?! A whole sovereign?! Thou canst be serious! " At least, that was what she had _intended_ to say. To everyone else within earshot it came out as, " Watt?! A big sovereign?! Thy not seriousness! "

Some people nearby chuckled, clearly amused.

Hag-tooth stuck her nose up at the outraged customer. " One sovereign." She repeated, " It's worth every penny. Actually, it's worth five times that. I will not be undersold."

Veronica shook her head feverishly. What was wrong with this woman? Were her underwear chafing too tight? A crown sounded fair, but an entire _sovereign_? It was madness!

Make that robbery!

_But she did say something about Lord Valerian. _That definitely piqued Veronica's interest. Lord Valerian was a reputed evil sorcerer who resided in the Forbidden Woods. Legend had it that he preyed upon hapless young maidens who dared set foot in his domain--subjecting them to the worst kinds of horrors imaginable before brutally murdering them in arcane ritualistic sacrifices. In fact, he was the very reason the Forbidden Woods were forbidden. Many people who entered there--men and women alike--never returned.

Of course, as it was with most legends, his existence could be neither proven nor disproven. A few persistent people claimed to have seen him just before sunrise and just after sunset, riding swiftly along the edge of the trees upon a ghostly horse with a white mane and tail and fur the same shade of pale silver as the moon. Not that everyone was taken seriously.

Many held such tales as just that--wild ramblings of an overactive imagination. Even so, the treachery of the forest could not be denied, and the rumors alone were enough to keep most people a safe distance from those 'cursed' woods.

Veronica knew this legend from her childhood. Margaret had loathed Lord Valerian and trembled at the mention of his name, yet she had also grudgingly respected him. It was common belief among the wiccan community that Valerian was the most powerful sorcerer in the world. Among his attributed powers were the ability to take any shape at will, command the elements, cause storms and plagues, slow time...even conjure Satan himself from the fiery depths of Hell. Even witches feared him.

Yes, the more she thought about it, the more Veronica _had _to have that ring. Whether Valerian actually existed or not was irrelevant. The ring was tied to the supernatural, and thus appealed to her in a way few things did.

Four years and she had never stopped practicing magic.

James didn't know it, but his loving wife now had the power to lift items as heavy as a hammer using only her mind. By raising her hand, she could draw small objects to her. She could change the color of her eyes to a deep, mystical violet. Sometimes she could slightly manipulate minds. And sometimes, just sometimes--if she really put her mind to it--she could make tiny sparks of colored electricity leap between the fingers of her outstretched palm.

It would be a lie to see that it had been easy keeping the secret. Every time she laid eyes on James--saw his tender, loving smile, felt his warm embrace...the way his heart fluttered when she was near...there wasn't a moment in each waking day she didn't want to tell him.

She knew he loved her. He would never betray her, certainly.

So why was she holding back? As her powers advanced, the secret was getting harder and harder to keep. It was more a burden now than ever before.

Still, she held back. Perhaps it was for her mother. Margaret had died because a bunch of silly, superstitious people had confused her with a witch. _Stupid, stupid people. We never meant them any harm! Why couldn't they have just left us alone_?

Veronica studied the ring, thought about using her magics to gravitate it to her when the woman wasn't looking. No, she decided, that probably wouldn't be a good idea. Too many people here. And accused 'witches' had gotten hanged on far less than using real actual magic. If she were caught performing parlor tricks in front of a mob this big that'd be the end of her.

Wishing she were better at negotiating prices, she dug the coins up from her purse and counted them where she stood. _A sovereign, a groat, three pennies...and that's it. Gee, aren't I rich? _Pitiful. Veronica moved the coins around in her palm, the sunlight reflecting fluidly off their shiny surfaces.

It wasn't a terribly large sum. And it was all she had. _Rats._

Hag-tooth was impatient. " We have a deal or not? "

She was about to reply when a well-dressed man riding a white stallion started up to the table. Veronica almost had a heart-attack when he eyed the garnet ring, _her _garnet ring.

" Hey, that would make a perfect gift for my..."

" Sold! " Veronica hastily pushed her only sovereign into Hag-tooth's greedy hands and snatched the precious ring before Mr. I'm-So-Rich-I-Probably-Have-Hundreds-Of-Sovereigns had time to fully register. Then, in an epic display of sheer rudeness seldom encountered in such well-mannered parts, she turned and sped off down the faire, not caring who she shoved or mowed over in order to get away from the horrible, horrible price-gouger who had swindled her out of James's hard-earned money.

" Hey! Watch where you're going, Miss French! " One middle-aged man swore as Veronica trampled over first his foot, then his sack of goods.

Several other people had far less polite terms for her, most of them profane.

Veronica didn't care.

She had her ring.

----------

Alexandra. Alexandra! The voice rang loud and clear inside the youngest Ashford's head. Startled, she stopped what she was doing and jerked upright fast enough to startle Sultan. Bedraggled, the black and orange cub ceased his play and began to pace anxiously in circles around his equally-as surprised mistress.

Since separating from Veronica, girl and tiger had migrated down to one of the lower rooms. Originally, it had been Alexandra's intention to see how her parents and brother were faring. She'd searched for a good thirty minutes before the ever-playful Sultan had engaged her in a game of tag-and-pounce. And, well, tag-and-pounce had quite the way of making one forget one's worries. They'd both been thoroughly enjoying themselves.

Alexandra paused, a sudden dread welling inside. Should she answer? She'd long been trying to conceal the true extent of her abilities from her mother; fearful that one day jealousy would get the better of her and she would view her own daughter as a threat in some form or another.

I hear you, Mother. It was the sheer urgency in Alexia's voice which prodded the answer. She sounded desperate. In pain, even. _It must be an emergency to make her want to telepathically communicate with **me**._

As far as Alexia had known, Alexandra couldn't communicate in such a way.

So you _can_ communicate telepathically. Alexia sounded impressed.

Alexandra tried to quell the fear rapidly mounting inside her. Yes. It was the telepathic-equivalent of a squeak.

Listen, Veronica trapped Alfred and I in one of the top towers, I think. You have to come help! 

How are you trapped? 

We're shackled to a wall. Veronica rendered my virus ineffective. You must hurry! Her voice was fading fast, each syllable more strained than the last, which in itself was cause for concern since the words were spoken mentally.

Alexandra nodded. She would do anything for her parents.

Well, almost anything. She wouldn't _kill _for them, then again, she hoped she'd never be in a situation where she had to.

Alright. You sure you don't know exactly where you're at? 

Alexia's voice softened to a pleading, almost child-like tone. I do not know. That witch bitch teleported us here. There is a door, but I don't know where it leads. Please hurry! Never before had the once-proud mistress of the Ashfords sounded so fragile, so _pained_.

I'm coming. Alexandra replied, biting her lower lip until it almost bled. Alexia had failed to specify exactly what was happening in that room, or what kind of danger her and Alfred were in. Alexandra had a strong feeling this was on purpose. It could be a trap--a gimmick to lure her in to share the same fate as her parents. Alexia's heart was so poisoned with it hate that that was actually a very plausible scenario. If she had to go down, _all_ the Ashfords were expected to go down with her. She'd basically stated as much herself many a time in the past.

" C'mon, Sultan." Alexandra turned and headed briskly for the nearest exit, trying to collect her thoughts and remember where it was she'd seen those stairs spiraling upwards.

Evil or not, they were still her family. She could never abandon them, especially when their lives might be in danger.

If this was a trap, she was taking the bait.

-----

Back in the room with no windows, Alfred cried out as another tentacle sliced the flesh off his left elbow, trailing a fresh geyser of dripping crimson. Less than half an hour with the beast and already both he and Alexia were in a sorry state.

Nasty cuts varying in width, length, depth, and severity criss-crossed pallid skin at every available intersection. Arms, chests, faces--all were a raw, bloody mess.

So far the Nosferatu beast seemed to have it in more for Alexia. Her once beautiful, aristocratic face was now marred with no less than twenty cuts. The most serious of these was a sharp slash on the right side of her forehead, just barely below her hairline. Here the flesh had been peeled back, the wound cutting straight to the bone. Everything about her was ripped, torn, bloody, and ragged. Whatever magics Veronica had used, they kept her life's fluid from bursting into flame the way it normally would have.

Alfred's physical state pretty much mirrored his sister's, only with _slightly_ less cuts. Outwardly, he was trying to appear calm for his twin's sake, but inside he was screaming. Far too frequently those screams reached fruition at his lips.

**_You deserve it. _**The voice taunted, speaking again for the first time since the start of this cruel torture.

_No! Please! Go away! _Alfred cried silently, _Just let me die!_

**_Really that eager to go to Hell are you? The pain won't be any less there. It will be amplified tenfold. Every insult, every injury, every slight you have ever inflicted upon others will come back on you. The law of Karma. We pay for everything._**

_NO! _Alfred shrieked, spasming in pain as another tentacle of fury rained down upon his left cheek, laying it open.

" No-no-no! " He gasped, tears streaming from his eyes and mixing with his blood enroute to the floor. _Why do you torment me so? Why wont you go away!_

**_You seek the answer you already know, _**The Voice continued firmly, **_Stop being blind to yourself. You are your own worst enemy. You refuse to see the truth that is in front of you._**

_Crrrack! _The tip of a hostile tentacle lashed Alfred's nose so hard that, for a horrible instant, he feared it was completely ripped off. But no, closing one eye he could still see it's shadowy outline through a curtain of blood. A small comfort. It was probably broken, but at least it was still _there_.

_Veronica, _Alfred seethed, _You are Veronica's doing! She put you here to torment me!_

**_You know that isn't true. _**The Voice countered calmly, **_I've always been here. You have been ignoring me for the past few decades, but I am as much a part of you as your eyes, or your fingers, or your heart beating inside your chest. I am not the result of Veronica's sorcery, all she did was lend me the power to speak stronger, to be more clearly heard._**

_Bollocks. _Alfred was one unhappy Ashford.

This put a whole new spin on 'the voices inside your head'.

Slowly, and with much discomfort, he turned his face to Alexia, his dear Alexia.

Despite the relentless shower of blows which worried her figure, she remained silent. Silent and drained. Totally at the mercy of the monster. All the fight seemed to have left her body; was it just him or did even her eyes seemed to be losing their fire? She was looking away from him at the moment, gazing off into an oblivion only she could see.

Beautiful. Even Nosferatu's handiwork couldn't change that. In Alfred's eyes, she'd never been anything less than perfect. He wondered if she had a plan for once they were rescued. They couldn't hang around Castle Ashford, that much was certain. Not unless they wanted every square inch of their asses kicked by Veronica.

" Did you reach Alexandra? " He groaned, every millimeter of his flesh burning with pain.

Alexia opened her mouth to reply...and was silenced by a slap to the mouth from a fat appendage bearing cruel barbs.

That hurt. A lot. She shut her eyes; shut out the pain. No matter what punishment befell her, Alexia Ashford would never cry out. Not now, not ever.

" Yes. She's on her way." She said without emotion.

Alfred frowned, suddenly bothered. " You did warn her about Nosferatu, didn't you? "

Upon hearing his name, the creature that had once been Alexander Ashford lifted his head towards the ceiling and cut loose with a horrific bellow which shook the walls and surely must have been heard throughout the entire castle: " Brrraaaaaahhhrrrrrr! "

Alfred and Alexia would have given anything to be able to clasp their hands over their ears. When Nosferatu bellowed, it was like a bomb going off inside their eardrums.

For a precious moment the physical assault ceased as the great green beast paused to lash tentacles about wildly in the air, clenching his enormous fists so tight it drew blood, the whole while thrusting his neck back for leverage and letting loose with blast after blast of agonizing screams.

Alexia didn't answer her brother's question. Such matters were unimportant, especially under these dire circumstances. She watched as Nosferatu continued his vocal hurricane, the whole time visualizing the lovely shades of red his throat would leak upon being cut open. Then his fading body would twitch and spasm in the dance of death...Alexia licked the blood from her lips. She would have her revenge. In one form or another, if she survived this nightmare, that hideous abomination would be the first thing to go. Then Veronica.

Somehow.

_Still need to find a way to contact Discord_, She thought, tasting the coppery tang of her own blood, _Even a sorceress must have her limits. She can't be all-powerful. Just wait, dearest Veronica. Oh humble ancestor of mine._ _Soon I'll be dancing on your grave and drinking the sweetest of fine red wines, defiling everything you ever cared about. Give it time. Your magics won't be enough to save_ _you! _She paused for a moment, tilting her head to one side, considering. _Or should I kill you right away? Perhaps if there were a way to rob you of your powers it would be much more preferable to torture you first. Make you loathe the day you ever crossed paths with me. Yes, I think I shall. I will start by slowly carving out your eyes with a dirty shard of glass and...._

"Alexia? "

Her thoughts of a gory retribution were interrupted by Alfred's shrill voice. She turned to face him, a cold, uncaring expression weaving it's way across her features. _He'd better have good news._

" Yes? "

" Y...you..." Alfred stammered, studying Nosferatu nervously. It would not be long before the monster remembered the beatings. _Ouch. _As if it weren't already enough that he was being slashed open alive, his wrists and ankles all ached terribly in the cold iron cuffs_. I can't go to Hell, _he told himself, _I'm already there. _ " You did warn Alexandra about Nosferatu, right? "

Alexia's stone-cold expression didn't change. " Of course not," She said simply, as if any idiot should know, " I had to be certain she would come."

**_Puh! She would have come regardless. _**The Voice scoffed, disgusted.

Alfred was horrified. " She would have come regardless! " He blurted, echoing The Voice.

Alexia shot her twin a severe look that came very close to being a sneer. " I could not take chances."

**_What a selfish pig. _**The Voice scolded, **_What kind of a mother is she?_**

Alfred wisely chose not to repeat this. Instead he said, " But perhaps if you'd warned her she could have come more prepared..."

" Alexandra is inconsequential! " Alexia hissed, her eyes a fierce blue storm raging beneath the droplets of blood dangling from her eyebrows, " All that is important is that she frees us from this place! "

Alfred's face fell. _Alexia's right. Alexandra's well-being doesn't matter. I don't care. Idon'tcareIdon'tcareIdon't...._

**_Rubbish and poppycock!_** The Voice broke in, **_You do care. Stop denying it. You love Alexandra._**

_No! You're wrong! I love no-one but Alexia!_

**_That a written law? _**The Voice jeered, **_What has she ever done to merit your love? She doesn't love you. She may not even be capable of loving. For once in your wretched life, try to be reasonable._**

Of course, being reasonable was one of the hardest things in the world for Alfred Ashford. He sniffled, hot tears stinging his cheeks, unaware of the utterly disgusted look the woman he was trying to defend was sending his way. _Liar! Alexia loves me! She even said so!_

The Voice chuckled, a mental action only Alfred could hear. **_Saying you love someone when you don't love yourself is like a naked person offering you a shirt. Do not mistake lust for love. She's using you. That's all she's ever done with you isn't it? Use you to satisfy her needs. She doesn't think any higher of you than she would a devoted pet_**.

_You lie!_

**_I don't, and you know it. You just refuse to see things for what they really are. You are afraid of the truth, so you hide from it. You go along daily life in a dreamworld; in a constant maya that everything is fine and Alexia has the ultimate answer to all problems. She doesn't. In truth she's just as messed up and confused as you are, maybe even worse._**

No! She's very smart! She knows what she's doing.

****

Does she? Was it her plan to be killed in the Antarctic base? Was it her plan to be resurrected, and to fail again in HCF? Did she plot her fainting spell in Africa? How about now? Open your eyes. Veronica has you both trapped here like slaves. She's conjured the ghostly doppelganger of Nosferatu to punish you for the crimes you have committed against your own family. Yet you still have the nerve to say that Alexia knows what she's doing? Because if you don't mind me saying, as far as plans go, those all suck.

Alfred flinched, was unable to come up with a reply.

**__**

It was true. On a deeper level he'd been trying to deny, his faith in his sister was slipping. He was starting to realize that maybe--just perhaps--she didn't have all the answers. Maybe she was lost, too.

**__**

Admittance is the first step to recovery. For as much as Alexia wants people to believe otherwise, she is but human with human flaws. Her virus isn't some magical antidote that can cure that. She's not some perfect all-powerful goddess who knows everything about everything. She may be a genius, but she lacks wisdom. The two are vastly different. In some ways, she is more prone to failure than the kid who throws down her pencil in fifth grade and insists that any higher education is pointless because she already knows everything and anyone who thinks differently is wrong. Not all education is the academic kind. Not everything can be taught. Some kinds of learning require an open mind and soul. Alexia is not ready for that. She is in kindergarten along the spiritual path of enlightenment. Like a young child, she sees everything in black and white with no shades of gray. Either good or evil. Things are never that simple. Black can appear white where there is blinding light. Likewise, all it takes is a smidgen of darkness for white to lose it's shine. Beware the illusions. The glint in the water may not be the treasure you seek.

Intriguing. Alfred blinked, and for a moment, just a moment, Nosferatu and Alexia were forgotten.

_I'm confused. Are you ? Or something....more?_

The Voice laughed, and this time the tone was free of ridicule. **_For once, you are beginning to see. Conscience is the window of the spirit, but often it is obscured by the curtain of evil. It's as if you have spent the biggest portion of your life with the drapes drawn, never seeing what's beyond the safety of your own room. Yes, for now, I am your conscience. But few people truly understand what that means anymore. I am not some alien creature or foreign entity telling you right from wrong. I'm not Jiminy Cricket._**

The Voice enjoyed a soft chuckle at this before continuing. **_I am merely a separate aspect of yourself. I cannot leave because I have always been a part of you. I only refer to us as if we were separate because this is the way that is easiest to for you to comprehend. Just like Alexia isn't quite ready for first-grade, there are some things you are not quite ready for as well._**

Such as?

****

You'll see.

--------

It was fairly easy to find the room in question. Once that ungodly roaring had started up, it had been a simple matter for Alexandra to connect points A and B and follow the yellow-brick road.

Or, as this case was, the voice of the scary-screaming monster.

_The things I do for love. Waitaminute, I'm starting to sound like Courage. Hm. Not a bad thing, I suppose. He may be an oddly-drawn pink cartoon dog, but you have to admire his loyalty to Muriel._

Alexandra stopped. A solid oak door carved with strange symbols that looked vaguely like ancient Egyptian hieroglyphics blocked her path. _And just when you think it can't get any stranger. I thought Veronica said she was from Renaissance Europe. Strange symbols for her to have on her door. Too bad I suck at Ancient Egyptian, if that's even what these are._

She had no further time to ponder, however, as just then another hideous, ear-splitting _scream_ rent the air. This was followed quickly by thunderous footsteps pounding the floor. Not encouraging. It conjured up images of a nasty ogre-type beast.

Alexandra shivered, backed a few paces away from the hieroglyph-ridden door. _Why do I get the feeling Mom forgot to tell me something_? _Not sure I want to meet the owner of that voice. It's obviously not in the mood for company_. 

Whatever it was, it was waiting just beyond the door.

Sultan crouched low by her feet, ears flattened and a wild look of fright in his amber eyes.

Alexandra didn't blame him. It was against her nature to dash blindly into rooms containing an occupant who sounded like the Hulk throwing a temper tantrum. As a rule of thumb, that generally was not a good idea.

Dare she enter?

Any second thoughts Alexandra was having were murdered instantly when another cry reached her ears--this one more pathetic and definitely human.

_Dad!_

That was that. There was no way Alexandra was going to just leave her parents to suffer at the hand/paw/appendage of whatever cruel monster Veronica had conjured up. She was the only hope they had. Mustering up her courage, she reached out and opened the door. It swung free without a fuss.

Sultan cringed back with a worried mewl as his mistress boldly entered the lair of the beast.

And gasped.

Standing in the center of the room, lashing about insanely with long, wicked razor-tentacles, was a huge humanoid beast with sickly mottled green and black flesh. An enlarged and totally exposed purplish-pink heart pumped away madly in his chest cavity, looking very vulnerable and liable to burst any second. His muscles were large and rippling, like a wrestler pumped up on steroids. He wasn't wearing much in the way of clothes. Just a thick dark-greenish loincloth and a filthy blindfold that appeared to have been merged with his face after countless years of wear.

In short, he was repulsive. With a matching attitude.

Just beyond the monster were Alexandra's parents, shackled tightly to the stone wall and completely torn up with cuts and welts. The situation was much worse than she had imagined. There was so much blood it was hard to tell how badly they were hurt.

Now she knew why her mother had failed to mention that tiny detail.

_She wanted to be sure I'd come. But why didn't she just tell me? Does she really think I'm just as cruel and self-centered as she is? If I were that type of person, all I would have to do is turn and burn carpet right now. There's nothing physically holding me here._

The beast sensed that he was not alone. With a vicious snarl, he turned to acknowledge this new threat. Alexandra was thankful for the blindfold covering his eyes. That gave her a bit of an advantage.

Or so she thought.

Nosferatu may not have been able to see the young girl standing nearby, but years of going without sight had honed his other senses in a way of compensating. He could hear her breath and feel the vibrations caused from the opening of the door.

He knew she was there.

He had no way of recognizing her, of course. Not that it mattered. Even if he had some way of knowing, any semblance of human intelligence or emotion had long since vanished.

Alexandra swallowed nervously. _I have a very, very bad feeling about this. _Quickly, she dared spare a glance in the direction of her beloved pet, concerned for his safety.

She needn't have worried.

One look at the hulking, tentacled terror sent Sultan fleeing back down the stairwell like a frightened pussycat. At least he would be safe. That was a better guarantee than what Alexandra had right now.

__

What am I going to do?! Out of instinct, she shut the door.

Bad move.

The behemoth beast began to sniff heavily, his four tentacles whipping about through the air like live wires. He seemed very excited at the prospect of a new prey.

At last, Alexandra found words appropriate for the occasion: " What is _that?! _" she asked, not entirely sure she wanted the answer.

Despite her obvious pain, Alexia still managed a wicked smirk. " Your grandfather."

" Watch out, he has the T-Veronica virus! " Alfred warned.

_My **grandfather**?! _It was too horrid to be true.

Alexandra put on a phony grin and waved a few fingers at the maddened monster. " Um, hi? "

" Mrrrraaaaaww! " Nosferatu greeted. Then he charged.

Alexandra leapt aside, barely in the nick of time. " What do I do?! " She called, frantic.

" Get me down! " Alexia demanded, " You may have to kill him first."

Alexia's daughter crouched into a spinning roll--a bladed tentacle swiping the air directly overhead. " Kill him? You must be joking! " Regaining her feet, she shot up and reached the enforced-iron chains holding her parents in two bounds.

Behind her, Nosferatu was not a happy camper. Having missed his target yet again, he hissed in a wild rage, explaining his feelings. It wasn't a pleasant sound.

There was no time to lose. Alexandra quickly began to yank first Alfred's chains, then Alexia's.

No use. The metal held firmly, not even weakened by her efforts.

" Don't you think I already tried that? " Alexia grumped from overhead, her frown deep enough to sink the Titanic, " Not that I don't appreciate the effort, but you're going to have to try something else."

_Easy for you to say. _Alexandra thought, wondering what in the world she was going to do about unbreakable chains and an unkillable monster constantly on her behind giving her the feeling of a small car about to be rammed off the road by a tailgating semi.

" Look out! " Alfred's warning came an instant too late.

A crazed tentacle cracked through the air like a bullwhip and belted Alexandra in the side, sending her flying clear across to the other side of the room where she collided with a hard stone wall.

_Ouch! _She staggered to her feet with the unchallenged grace of a drunken zombie, tentively eyeing the wide gash in her clothes. A red line blossomed across the exposed flesh, blood dripping into fire.

" Going to have to be faster than that, Darling Daughter." Alexia actually seemed amused by the life and death battle taking place between her daughter and the abomination that had once been her father.

Alfred was anything but. He looked on in silent horror as Nosferatu moved in for he kill.

" Stay away from me! " Alexandra spat at the creature, her stance and false boldness comparable to a tiny kitten spitting at a much larger predator. She raised her wrists defiantly. That was when she noticed that her customary flint bracelets were missing. Without them, she wouldn't be able to spark a fire for her wrist-jets.

_Bugger. What did I do with those? Oh. That's right. I didn't put them on today. They're in the top drawer of my dresser in my room back at home. _This was a sad disadvantage. What to do now?

Well, Grandpa Ashford certainly wasn't going to cut her any slack. He stumbled closer, unsure exactly where his prey was. He began testing the air with those godawful tentacles.

_I hate to do this. _Cornered, and forced to her extreme with such a powerful monster bearing down on her, Alexandra resorted to the last weapon she had. Swift as an arrow she raked the long, sharp, ultra-hard fingernails of one hand against the soft flesh of her opposite wrist, drawing blood. Because of the T-Veronica virus, her blood was quick to flow and slow to clot.

She waited for Nosferatu to come into range. Closer....closer...now!

As the beast stumbled into her line of fire, Alexandra flicked her wrist and caught him in a spray of blood. The red liquid exploded into flames upon contact with his sickly flesh.

However, there was one small fact that had been overlooked: the Alexander-beast also had the T-Veronica virus. Therefore, a little fire on his skin wasn't life-threatening. It was, however, just enough to make him beside himself with rage.

" Braaaaaaawwww! " Nosferatu was one angry monster.

Alexia shook her head solemnly. At first she had been amused by this battle. Two T-Veronica enhanced super-humans having a showdown--one with the virus embedded within her DNA, the other mutated...it was a scientist's dream. Invaluable to the scientific world. Then she had come to realize that her fate was now tied to Alexandra's. Like it or not, her youngest daughter was the only one who had half a shot at freeing her from this hell.

_I never thought I'd see the day where I became so desperate as to call upon her for help._ She sighed inwardly, _I'd better offer her some tips or else she'll never defeat the monster. And I'll be stuck here until I die. _ She opened her mouth to offer this advice, but she was too late.

In a blind fury, the Alexander-beast bolted forward, making an educated guess at where his tormentor lie. Alexandra tried to sidestep, but she wasn't quick enough. An angry tentacle bowled her over, catching her full in the shoulder and laying it open almost to the bone.

" Aaaah! " She cried out as masses of her blood gushed from the fresh wound and ignited. Now she was also on fire.

Nosferatu didn't wait for her to recover. With a triumphant bellow, he closed the distance between him and his prey in a single leap. The floor shook when his big feet slammed down inches from his granddaughter's head. Before a stunned Alexandra had time to react, he lashed out and slapped her again.

This time Alexandra couldn't get the air to scream out. Fire, fire all around her, engulfing everything in a hellish red blaze. More of it sprouted from her midsection, where wicked razors had left their mark. The flames themselves didn't hurt; the real pain stemmed from the force of impact and those nasty cuts.

Still, she had to move. To lay still was certain death. If Nosferatu grabbed her up now there would be no coming back from it. She struggled to move an arm, leg, _anything_ just to get away--to give her that much more of a fighting chance--but to no avail. Nosferatu's razor-barbs had a paralyzing effect. It was like every muscle in her body had turned to jelly and refused to obey her.

" Don't just lay there idiot! _Move! _" Came Alexia's words of encouragement. Just as she had suspected, Nosferatu was besting the young T-Veronica carrier with little difficulty. It barely mattered that the same virus coursed through both their veins, or that Alexandra was fine-tuned to her virus whilst his cells had had no time to adapt. He was bigger and stronger than her. The fight had never been fair from the start.

Alfred could take it no longer. Seeing his daughter like this...so pitiful and vulnerable to a beast that never should have existed from the start, was too much to bear. The lamb before the slaughter.

No.

He wouldn't allow it. He wasn't about to just stand idly by while his daughter, one of the few people in the world he actually cared about, got ripped to shreds. A new strength surged within him, along with a new feeling. He wasn't sure what it was yet, but it made him feel strangely proud of the insanely stupid thing he was about to do.

" Hey Nose-wipe jerk-ku! " He catcalled, straining extra-hard to make his voice as high-pitched and annoying as possible, " Ever stop to think _why _Alexia and I mutated you? You were a lousy excuse for a father. The saddest failure since peanutbutter and mayonnaise sandwiches."

Nosferatu looked up. Well, maybe not so much _looked _as turned his head in Alfred's direction. For a moment, Alexandra was forgotten.

Alexia shot her brother an incredulous look. What are you doing? Are you _mad? _

Despite his nerves, Alfred managed the telepathic equivalent of a chuckle. Probably. He agreed, But what choice do I have? 

He continued his assault on the monster, " So I have your attention now, do I dumbass? That's right, you _know_ you're a failure. You know what the hardest part of all was back in my childhood? Pretending I _liked_ you, that I actually gave a rat's ass about you and your stupid..."

The beast roared.

" ...meaningless..."

He turned away from Alexandra and charged; a fiery demon of fury. " ...research! "

Four tentacles lashed Alfred in four different places. His taunts turned to screams as half his face was ripped off in one blow, an action which caused even Alexia to squirm in discomfort.

The pain was like nothing ever experienced. Worse than the guillotine, really. At least with getting your head chopped off the pain was quick and brief. Not so with half your face being demolished with blades that looked like they belonged on the feet of the velociraptors in the movie _Jurassic Park_.

Still, through all the excruciating pain and cascades of blood, he managed to make his kamikazi-esque action worthwhile. " Alexandra! Run! You can't beat Nosferatu, get Veronica! You want to save us? Convince _her _to save us! It's the only way! Go! "

Even as these words were spoken, the virus within Alexandra's body was already hard at work countering the effects of the paralysis. When she tried again to get up, to heed her father's advice, her legs worked perfectly.

She shot one last, heartbroken glance over her shoulder before streaking for the door. " I'll be back. I promise." And with that she was gone, leaving her parents to Nosferatu's mercy, but with a faint glimmer of hope at salvation.


	18. Cast Into The Unknown

****

Chapter 18

There was a general uneasy atmosphere as the S.T.A.R.S. gang and company braced themselves for the unexpected.

It had taken less then a minute for everyone to agree that yes, Angelique was legit, yes, the world probably was in grave danger--_again_, and yes, going back in time to retrieve lost pieces of the Hylen was probably their safest bet to defeat the all-powerful Veronica. It was just one of life's simple decisions. As simple as deciding to get into the elevator and push the 'up' button to reach the rescue chopper rather than staying and blowing up with the bomb.

Sure, life was pretty sucky at the moment, but nobody wanted to see Armageddon. It was the right thing to do. The _sane _thing to do.

With Chris and Jill, however, it was a bit more personal. Neither had mentioned it aloud, but both had been thinking about the ramifications of time-travel. Namely: was it possible to change the past to affect the future?

Chris liked to think so. Yes, there was that pesky grandfather-paradox to throw a wrench into the plan: if a man went back in time and say, did something to get his grandfather killed, how would have he existed in the future to go back in time and effect his grandfather in the first place? It boggled the mind. A true paradox. An impossible situation.

Then again, most people supporting the grandfather-paradox tended to believe time-travel wasn't possible because of it. Clearly this was not the case.

So did the paradox still apply? And if not, how? Would it be possible to somehow alter past events--even slightly--to get a different outcome in the future? Maybe affect it so Crystal didn't die?

_There has to be a way. _Chris's mind buzzed, _Going back into time is a miracle in itself, there has to be a way to change the course of events here. All I need to do is think. If I go back far enough, maybe I can kill Wesker before he gets too powerful. Say right when he's leader of STARS?_

It sounded good on paper. No Wesker, no slayage of Crystal. No slayage of the Raccoon City S.T.A.R.S. either, come think of it. A perfect plan!

Or not.

Chris might have been in the worst emotional pain he could ever remember, but he wasn't stupid. The plan had flaws. In fact, it was downright chock-full of them.First of all, as Angelique had pointed out, the time-trips would be random. In other words, he could end up anyplace, anytime. He could end up back in the 1700's in Rome for all he knew. There was a mighty good chance he wasn't going to be encountering Wesker _there_.

Secondly, even if Lady Luck decided to smile on him and he _did _end up in a position to kill Wesker just before the Mansion Incident, would that really be such a hot idea?

No Wesker.

Things would be different, that much was certain. But how different? And in what ways?

Much as Chris despised his ex-captain with every fiber of his being, one thing for sure was fact: if Wesker hadn't taken them to the mansion, they wouldn't have known about the T-virus outbreak until much later. Maybe even too late. People who had initially died at the mansion may or may not survive, but that also put the original survivors at risk. It wouldn't be doing Crystal any favors if one or both of her parents died before she had a chance to ever even exist.

It was risking Seth's life as well. He didn't deserve to not live just because his sister couldn't. It was all grossly unfair.

It was unfair, and it was wrong, and Chris hated himself for being the world's worst father. As if by some morbid magic, the horrific events replayed over in his head, tormenting his soul.

**_Flash!_**

_They were back in the muddy clearing; just him, Claire, and Crystal. The roar of a jet broke the serene silence of the sky. He looked up and a feeling of dread gripped him as he realized that this was Wesker's own private jet, the very same he and Alan had used during that whole African incident. In his arms, Crystal giggled and made remarks about airplanes. She didn't understand the danger. How could she?_

Her father and aunt knew better. They weren't safe. Staying out in the open was ludicrous. Wesker was sure to kill them. Where would they...

The jungle. The only cover on this cursed island. He and Claire dashed for it. Hopefully they'd escape, hopefully Wesker hadn't noticed...

" Alan, how fast can you run? " He couldn't help it. The conversation he'd had only days earlier during a brief outing with his nephew surfaced in his mind as he raced on, almost there, almost reaching the first vibrant ferns and brightly-colored flowers heralding the edge of the forest...

" I've never gotten the chance to check it with a speedometer, but I'd guess somewhere around ninety miles-per-hour." Came Alan's haunting reply, " I can easily keep up with the cars on the freeway. Even pass most of them."

Gulp. Ninety miles-per-hour. That was awfully fast, and, sadly, probably a very accurate guess. Why had he had to ask that?

If Alan could go that fast, it was a forgone conclusion that Wesker could. He certainly hadn't been slow on the draw back in Antarctica. What were the odds he could catch a pair of fleeing siblings?

_Too good, that was what._

_He had almost reached the leafy cover of the thick jungle foliage when misfortune struck. Claire had tripped, and he tuned to see his sister struggling for purchase barely a car's length in front of Wesker. There was no choice. He'd had to do it._

" Crystal! Run for the jungle, now! " The last words he'd ever spoken directly to his little girl. Thankfully, Crystal had understood the urgency in his voice and done exactly as instructed.

_He had assumed she would be safe. After all, it was him that Wesker wanted dead. Little Crystal had never done anything wrong. Why would the ex-captain go for her?_

That split-second decision had proven to be the wrong one.

_Having ushered Crystal safely out of the way, he raised his uzi to fire. All in all, probably not the smartest move on God's green earth. Seeing himself threatened, Wesker charged forward with blinding speed and simply smacked the weapon out of his hands. There was a stab of pain, then a brief flying sensation as his former boss grabbed him by the neck and cast him to the side like so much garbage._

It barely slowed him down. Terrified for his sister's life, he had been quick to rise and charge to her aid.

_But Wesker had spotted a new prey. He reached the edge of the forest and snatched Crystal up before Chris had gotten within ten feet, and before Claire had fully regained her footing._

" Wesker," Chris had pleaded, his voice hoarse and dry, " You don't want her. Take me instead...what went down between us, she had nothing to do with it. Please, if there's any shred of decency or honor left in you at all..." He trailed off, unsure of what else to say. It was hard to know how Wesker would react in any given scenario, and he didn't want to say the wrong thing.

For a long moment Wesker had paused, as if considering. Then Crystal had cried out in pain--after all, her neck was bleeding--and with a murderous, snide remark, he'd snapped her neck.

Just like that.

**Flash!**

Hismind returned to the present, and he felt sick all over again.

How could he let that happen? How?! Good lord, even Alfred Ashford was a better father than he was! At least all of his offspring were still alive.

Maybe if he'd done something...different...his would be too. _But what could have I done differently? If I had kept running with Crystal, he would have killed Claire. If I had taken Crystal with me to save Claire, he may have_ _killed both of them._

It was a catch-22. Or was it?__

His gaze shifted to Spade, stationed just to the side of Alexis. She looked so calm and collected...indeed, it was as if nothing daunted her at all. He watched in disgust as she lifted a hand to her face and flipped back a lock of black hair. Like her looks were the most important thing in the world. Her attention was, at present, directed fully at Angelique, who was saying something about unknown factors--or was it pre-owned tractors? Chris wasn't really paying attention.

Something was bothering him.

Spade had been there. She had been there from the start. Yet she had done nothing.

Well, nothing useful anyway. Standing around and saying that they should leave before Alan lost the fight didn't count. Any idiot could do that.

_Why didn't she do something? She could have called out, distracted Wesker for us. Even a few seconds of extra time would have helped. She could have gotten in his way...anything other than just **standing**_ _there._

Yes, the more Chris thought about it, the more Spade's actions seemed kinda strange. Even her expression now was...apathetic. She didn't seem overly heartbroken about the death of her cousin. She didn't seem much of anything. Disturbing.

They couldn't trust her. She'd spent too much time with Wesker. It was a grim possibility that maybe she'd been holding back because she didn't care. Spade was obviously a Daddy's girl. Chris couldn't help but thinking that maybe she was just as ruthless as her father.

Now Alan, that was a different story. Chris had no doubt that he was upset. After all, he'd spent a lot of time bonding with the kids. For better or for worse, he and Alexis had always treated them as if they were their own. And the kids returned their love.

Yes, Alan cared. Not that it made a difference. _Guy brags about being able to run ninety miles-per-hour, yet when it really counts he can't get there quick enough. What a joke._

Though he wasn't consciously aware of it, Chris was starting to hate Alan.

" Open! " Angelique commanded, at last catching Chris's attention. Her hand shot out in front of her and four streaks of white lightning snaked forth from her palm, each splitting off in different direction.

There was a surreal shudder in the air as the lightning bolts struck against invisible barriers, instantly illuminating them in their glow. Four swirling green vortexes, each no bigger than a pizza pan, popped into existence in each place the bolts had struck.

Seth was just about to make the comment that unless Angelique shrunk everyone to the size of Barbie dolls there was no way they were going to fit inside, when the magic portals suspended in the air suddenly began expanding, wider and wider. Within moments they were as big as a child's swimming pool, and large enough for a grown man to step through comfortably.

The circle of friends gasped as Angelique looked on, admiring her handiwork. " Remember, eight hours! "

The next two seconds went by in a blur. Before anyone got a chance to object, or even to fully comprehend what was happening, for that matter, magnificent whips consisting purely of blue energy erupted from each portal and snagged their unsuspecting victims.

" Hey! What's...." Alexis was cut short when the energy-whip wrapped around her torso suddenly decided to pull her into it's portal. It didn't hurt. In fact it felt almost relaxing. The second she was in, Alexis's portal winked out of existence, leaving only air.

All in roughly half the time it took to blink.

The other portals were quick to follow suite, and they weren't picky about who they took. It all happened very quickly.

Jill, Claire, and Chris were all drawn into the maw of a single greedy portal.

Alan and Seth were chosen by another.

Spade got the last portal...alone.

Only Rob and Angelique were left untouched.

It was this curious fact that made Rob uneasy. There should have been five portals--one for each of the five Hylen pieces. Instead there had only been four.

" Um, Angelique, what about the fifth portal? There's five Hylen pieces, right? " He tried mask his disappointment about not being chosen by a portal. Sure, they were just magical--_things_--and it was hard telling what criteria they based their judgments on, but it made him feel unworthy somehow.

Angelique smiled gently. " Oh, don't worry! Those portals can be mischievous little scamps. Really, it's almost like they have a mind of their own. Not to worry, my friend. Like me, they must have somehow found you unfit for time-travel. Nothing to worry about. I can find someone else to collect the fifth piece. As for you...there's something else you can do to help in the fight. Here, let me show you."

A wave of her hand, and both she and Rob disappeared in a brilliant cobalt flash.

----

Wesker raised an eyebrow at the sight of Rob and Angelique disappearing in a flash. One second they were there, and the next they simply...weren't. Just like that. Most impressive, even he was forced to admit.

" Well well," He mused aloud, adjusting his aviators and taking a step out of his leafy hiding place, " Magic really _does _exist. Who'd have guessed? "

After the whole troll incident, Wesker had taken off; partially in pursuit of the Redfields, and partially to check on Spade. He'd caught up with them both--plus a whole lot more than he'd bargained for--and almost rushed right in to Angelique while she was giving her little speech. His interest fully piqued, he'd opted to crouch low and hide behind some nice leafy plants. From there he'd swept all that had went on with his eagle eyesight and super hearing.

Magic...now there was a concept. Very unscientific, but how could he deny what he had seen right before his very sharp eyes? Angelique had turned into a squirrel. Then, after turning back, she'd conjured up the use of magical swirling vortexes supposedly leading into other places and/or times. The STARS had all but disappeared into these. Without a trace. Then the witch had simply vanished herself, taking the individual called "Rob" with her.

As for the idea of Veronica Ashford not only being alive, but also a powerful sorceress bent on the destruction of the old world in favor of a new, less complicated system...now that was something. For being an Ashford, this Veronica had the right idea. Kill off almost everyone and start anew. It was a thrilling concept. If she could pull it off, that would be quite a feat indeed.

But where did that leave Albert Wesker?

_In a position to acquire some serious power, that's where._

Too bad that white-hat Angelique with a name that made her sound like she should be on '_Dark Shadows' _had sent the Lame-Gang back in time to find the pieces of some Hylen that supposedly had the power to declaw badass Veronica.

Such a shame. Wesker shook his head and made a small noise of disgust. What did the S.T.A.R.S. have against improvement? Cutting the world's surplus population down to a more manageable level was better for everyone. 

And Seth was a teenager now. That was...different. He would have had a harder time believing it was the same person if not for Angelique's story and proof of real magic.

Not that it changed matters. Older or no, Seth was a dead man walking. Of course, he _had _witnessed the teen flying into the same portal as Alan...how bad it would be if those two kindled any kind of a friendship! One-on-one, Seth--even a teenaged version--didn't stand a snowball's chance, but if he kept that bad habit of his of staying close to Alan every time Wesker wanted to attack...well, that would complicate matters.

__

Alan. Wesker sneered at the thought. Son or no, the guy was a constant pain in the neck. Giving him the T-2 virus and teaching him to fight had been a terrible mistake. _I would have been better off letting him die. But what's done is done. In any case, I wasn't sent here to waste my time with him._

No. No he wasn't.

The S.T.A.R.S. were gone, and it wouldn't break Wesker's heart if they never came back. As far as he was concerned, they could all rot in the place opposite of Heaven. Especially that treacherous Alan. They'd already cost him enough time on this assignment anyway. Instead of concentrating on finding the Sword of Elpis, he'd been focusing his energy on chasing after worthless ex-comrades.

Well, now they were taken care of, and he wished he could just allow himself to be thankful for that. If any returned, they'd be dealt with later.

Hopefully Spade would make it. She was perhaps the only person in the world Wesker didn't want to rip open and savagely murder. Sure, she tried his patience at times--like asking for certain viruses she couldn't have--but he would hate to see anything bad happen to her.

Not everything was doom and gloom, however. This cloud had a silver lining.

True, his favorite jet had gotten ripped to ribbons by a butt-ugly behemoth that had very nearly squeezed the life out of him, and true, his daughter--as well as his foes before he could exact proper revenge--had disappeared to Buddha-knew-where, but overall Wesker's mood was fairly good.

He'd killed Chris's daughter.

He'd killed Chris's daughter and gotten to savor that pitying look of sheer horror and despair as his adversary had looked on, helpless--crushed. Too bad he didn't have a camera. That had definitely been a Kodak moment!

Wesker stretched and stomped an innocent snake beneath his bootheel. Making his way through the damp fauna--which missed no opportunity to slap his legs with their damp and sticky leaves--he entered the clearing and came to stand in the very spot Angelique had.

This was truly a jungle paradise. Wesker was surrounded on all sides by ferns, flowers, plants, and trees of all kinds. Thick green vines dangled lazily above his platinum-blonde hair, and insects buzzed at his ears. Sometimes, it felt like, _in_ them. Everywhere he looked the vegetation was alive with caterpillars, ants, small mammals, and birds.

He took all this in, allowing his muscles to relax and his senses to fine-tune to the rhythm nature.

Overwhelming.

Everything was alive!

When he sniffed the air a thousand different scents reached his nose. His sensitive ears picked up everything from a mouse eating a nut under a root a few feet away to the awkward lumberings of the zombies and still other, bigger, creatures more than a mile away. Though the range of his eyes was limited by all the greenery, what he did see was flamboyant, colorful, and moving. A short grunt betrayed a wild pig nearby. Monkeys chattered merrily in the canopy, there fleeting shadows sometimes obscuring what sunlight filtered down from overhead.

Most of that, save the zombies, was pretty standard tropical island stuff. _Except_....

Except for the few odd things that weren't.

There were a few scents...none of them nearby....that were completely foreign to Wesker's sensory. A weird rattling which sounded something like a cross between a rattlesnake shaking it's famous tail and a raven's cry. Inhuman giggling. And--this was perhaps the most unsettling--a low, almost inaudible growling with an off cackle thrown in, which was the way Wesker imagined a dog might sound if it had a bone caught in it's throat.

_This island is strange. No wonder they call it 'Majika' Island. That name's actually pretty fit. It's a play on words. Clever, clever._

Well, he wasn't accomplishing anything standing around sharing his thoughts with the monkeys. He had bigger fish to fry. _Much _bigger.

Focusing on the direction he knew to be the exit to these confining woods, Wesker shot out of the foliage as fast as he was able; his course set not for Mt. Fulcan, but the direction in which he guessed Veronica's fortress to reside....

----

Veronica stormed through the halls of 'Castle Ashford' with all the grace and tenderness of a T-rex on a rampage. Something was wrong. There was a force on the island which could rise to threaten her, a force which shouldn't _be _there. _I am really getting sick of these problems. My world will be so much _better.

She exited the end of the hall and came into an almost bare red-carpetted room containing her descendant called 'Ash.' Of course, by now Veronica knew he and his sisters were inbred--there wasn't a soul alive who could keep secrets from her if she so wished--but she didn't care. Many of the nobles of long ago had been inbred. It didn't necessarily make the offspring genetically inferior or retarded, so long as it was not done over and over continuously.

Ash looked up immediately when she came in. " Hi Veronica! " Catching himself, he added, " I mean, er...Mistress Veronica. "

It wouldn't have taken much for Veronica to reply 'Hi' or 'Greetings, Ash.' Even give some gesture that she acknowledged he was _there_. Instead, the impatient sorceress blew past him in a whirlwind without giving him so much as a second glance, displaying her usual amount of courtesy.

Ash may just as well have been invisible.

_Nope. The_ _bee isn't out of her underwear yet. _He frowned, dropping his pink feather duster--the only color Veronica had provided as a slap to the face of her once proud family. It was at the back of his mind to ask _'Her Majesty' _what she'd done to his parents, but no, he decided, he really didn't like the idea of joining their fate.

With the force of a typhoon, Veronica yanked the curtains apart to reveal a perfect sunny day outside.

Blue eyes blinked in the new light, and the sudden realization.... " Sorry! I didn't get the chance to clean that window yet! But I swear I was just on my way..." Ash babbled, his snobbish voice primed with fear.

Veronica was not in the mood. " Don't worry about it." She grumbled, opening the window with a wave of her hand. She could have lifted the handle, but once again, that was just too much work.

Ash backed up a pace, worry eating away at his features. He'd never considered himself a coward, but Veronica had totally _trashed _Alexia..._Whose to say she won't lose patience someday and murder me?_ It was a scary thought.

And it could very well happen. There was no weapon Ash could use to defend himself should the red-haired slave-driver decide to turn hostile. Veronica was too powerful. And as long as he was trapped on the island he hadn't a prayer of escape.

No chance at all...

A warm breeze blew in, gently caressing Veronica's cheeks and lightly tossing up swirls of her hair. The sunlight caused red to glint gold in some places.

Ash resisted the urge to snort in disgust. Why, if _he_ had that kind of power, then _he _could look as he chose too.

Now Veronica was just standing by the window, stiff as a statue, as if transfixed by something her descendant could not see. This lasted for about five minutes straight. Ash was just about ready to call her name when the petite woman began swaying back and forth like a drunkard.

_Oh no! Not **again**!_

" Purdy out today, isn't it? " Veronica's question was more of a giggle.

_What?! _" Uh, yeah. I guess." Ash said slowly, unable to take his eyes off his crazed ancestor. _This woman is completely crackers! And I thought Dad was bad. I wonder what causes her to go off like this? There has to be something that triggers it...damn, I really hope it's not **me**!_

The painful memories of _'You Say It Best' _and the dance he had shared were etched in his mind forever. And not in a positive way. The last thing in the world he wanted to do was be handy when she had another quack-attack.

Veronica turned around, and to Ash's horror all semblance of seriousness had left her face. " I'm going to rock this world." She murmured, as if in a dream. A dopey, stupid grin about 5,000 watts too bright blossomed on her face, and she giggled--apparently from Ash's observation--at something hilarious the wall to the right had just said.

The blonde's eyebrows raised in surprise. He wasn't sure whether ask what Veronica was doing or run off down the halls. _Well, she seems friendly now..._

" Veronica, is everything...okay? "

No, it wasn't. Okay people didn't act like they were three sheets to the wind.

" Okay?! " Veronica practically screamed the word, in spite of the fact that Ash was only a few feet away, " Nev-ah felt bet-ah brother! " She rapped in some weird foreign accent that sounded like an inharmonious mix between French, English, and some other language.

She laughed again. The bare gray-stone wall was really quite the comedian tonight.

Then, to Ash's amazement--and horror--Veronica Ashford began dancing to the tune of music only she could hear. A step here, a step there; dancing like a showgirl practicing for an audition. It might have been a mediocre performance had Veronica possessed an ounce of grace. As Ash looked on in complete shock, the 'fanciful' dancer shut her eyes and danced face-first into the wall, smashing her nose hard enough to make the saner Ashford twitch in pain. _Ouch._

" Veronica? " Ash wasn't sure what he should do.

Veronica didn't appear to be hurt. Barely keeping her footing, she stumbled away from the wall in much the same manner as a confused zombie and swept the room blankly with those spell-binding violet eyes. Then she shook her head, and some shred of sanity seemed to re-assert itself.

Veronica actually looked a bit embarrassed. Her cheeks flushed mildly as she turned to face her kin and fix him with those enchanting eyes. Rather than cold and hard, her gaze was actually friendly, and when she spoke her words were devoid of ill-will.

" Erm...that didn't happen." She declared lightly, as if as much to assure herself as the young man standing before her. A funny look creased her face as she waited for Ash's reply.

_Best to dance to her tune. _Ash nodded solidly. " Nope." He felt like an idiot for even saying it.

Veronica beamed. " Darn straight! " She chuckled wildly, like a pyromaniac who had just received the world's best lighter, " Can't have anyone thinking I'm all sixes and sevens! " She winked an eye and blew him a kiss before turning and practically skipping over to the window. " I shall return! " She promised cheerfully. Before Ash had time to reply, her body lit up with a bright golden aura, and a second later a peregrine falcon sporting the traditional sooty black feathers on top and creamy, mottled underside stood in her place, sharp talons scratching roughly into the stone sill.

_Perfect. _It was the perfect form for scouting the island--a far-sighted flier, fast and agile, yet small enough not to draw attention. She raised her wings, testing the air.

Warm with gentle breezes. Excellent flying weather. Good, good.

Just for the heck of it, Veronica opened her beak and let out a loud, piercing falcon cry: " Creeeeeeeeet! " _Watch out world, I'm coming! _Then she folded her slender wings close to her body and jumped off the sill, waiting until she was halfway down before spreading them and flapping up into the sky.

Ash was left staring blankly out the window. " Sixes and sevens? " He repeated.

Now what the feathered heck was _that_ supposed to mean?

----

The sparkling sun glinted off her sleek black-and-slate feathers, and the warm thermals rose off the rapidly heating ground to supply the needed lift. It was a raptor's dream. Veronica sailed easily through the current, spiraling up and up hundreds of feet into the air.

It would have looked quite odd indeed to any bird-watchers. Peregrine falcons do not normally soar like eagles. Their smaller, slimmer wings are designed for speed, not hours of effortless flight. In addition, only lost peregrines end up out in the middle of the tropics. If only Veronica had known how out-of-place she was, she may have considered a different form.

Then again, maybe not.

Veronica was in heaven. _I'd forgotten how much fun this was! _She thought as she spilled air, tucked her wings close to her body, and plummeted like a feathered missile in the peregrine's famous dive.

_Weeeeeeeee! _So exhilarating! So effortless! The ground rushed up in a brown and green blur; the wind whistling past her hooked beak and blowing past her streamlined body. Pure joy! Undiluted bliss! _Hah, eat your heart out Alexia! Beat this! **You** can never know the joys of being a falcon in a dive!_

Faster and faster....there was the ground!

Yahoo! Veronica screamed telepathically to herself, sweeping her wings forward and adjusting her tail-feathers to shoot past the ground and back up into the air in a narrow arc, just an instant before the big splat.

What a rush!

Flapping back up into the sky, she caught a glimpse of a marshal eagle off in the distance. Had she been able to, Veronica would have shrugged. The eagle might be a threat to a normal falcon, but it may as well be a bug for all she was concerned. She was the Queen. She was untouchable.

She was..._flying_!

The cares of life faded away. Gaining an altitude of a few hundred feet, she gazed down on her kingdom below. Raptor eyes are amazing. She could she every monkey in the canopy, every insect buzzing below. A few _lycandits_, her wolf-like beast pets, roamed below in search of prey. However, she scarcely cared at the moment.

She'd re-discovered flying!

For the first time in many years, she was able to push all dark thoughts back to the recesses of her mind and just be happy. She really should be scouting the island, she knew. The source of her discomfort must be located and destroyed. But heck, couldn't that wait just a few more minutes?

If she'd had lips, she would have smiled. _Yes. It can wait. I can afford this moment's joys. _ That settled it.

Climbing higher still, Veronica made slight adjustments to her feathers and began looping into a fantastic display of aerial acrobatics that would put even the best real birds to shame.

In fact, she was so caught up in her feats, she never paid heed to Mt. Fulcan, or the fact that she was getting closer and closer to it. Had she looked down at all, she would have seen the two shifty figures standing at it's base.

---

Rob and Angelique stood at the foot of Mt. Fulcan near the slender opening of a cave. The moment was pregnant with mystery as the dark-haired man tried to guess what the witch had in mind.

All in all, he wasn't entirely comfortable. There was something odd about this witch...an eerie sort of familiarity he couldn't quite place that ate away at the back of his mind and crept under his skin like a disease.

" Deep within the caverns of fire in the heart of the volcano lies an ancient artifact said to shield it's wearer from all magic. Could come in handy for the champion wielding the Hylen." Angelique gestured to the dark cave in front of them.

Rob didn't like it. A foul breath eminated from that cave, a hot, sickening smell. _She's got to be kidding. In there? This doesn't feel right, Rob._

" What does the artifact look like? "

" It's..."

_" Creeeeeeeet! "_

Angelique was cut off by the sharp scream of a bird of prey. She and Rob looked up simultaneously to see a magnificent falcon dancing high in the air, twisting, diving, looping, spiraling, and twirling at every available chance. The crazy bird was doing every stunning aerial move a falcon could do, and even some a falcon couldn't.

" Car-eeeeeeeeeeeet! " The bird--looked a heck of a lot like a _peregrine_ falcon--fell into a death-defying plummet. Seconds later and it rose from the tops of the trees, a long stick clasped firmly in it's talons. When it was high enough, it dropped the stick, waited a few moments, and dived after it. Strangely enough, it seemed to be playing.

The first stages of a snarl twisted Angelique's mouth. No normal falcon would behave like that. Not only that, but this was the wrong part of the world for the species to be found. _Not very sneaky, are you Veronica?_

The witch's almost-a-sneer had not gone unnoticed by Rob. " What's that? " He asked, even though the answer was very obvious.

Angelique shook her head and returned her attention to the matter at hand. " Just a bird." There was no point in getting her friend all worried. The sorceress hadn't noticed them.

Rob wasn't entirely comfortable with this answer, but then again, he wasn't entirely comfortable with this _woman_. Choosing not to argue, he ran a hand over his dark brown hair and turned back to the cave.

" About this artifact. Might help if I know what I'm looking for."

" It's an amulet. The inside gleans red like blood. You'll know it when you see it. The inside path is lit by the magic of the ancients. Use them wisely, and don't let down your guard: no human can hope to defeat the warriors of the cave."

Rob threw up his hands. " If no human can defeat the warriors, what makes you think _I_ can? " It was a bit of a slip-up. In his haste to get out of this deal, Rob had said the words he was starting to regret.

Angelique snickered softly.

" What's so funny? " Rob spun around in a flash, suddenly nervous.

" We both know you're not entirely human." Her words were light and to the point.

Rob's face darkened. He narrowed his eyes suspiciously. " How do you know that? "

" Silly! I'm a witch, remember? I can sense these things."

Rob crossed his arms and gave a dry smile. " Alrighty then. What am I? "

" I'm not quite sure." Angelique rubbed a hand under her chin thoughtfully, blue eyes fixed firmly on the army-clad young man in front of her. " But I do know that with that on your side you stand some chance of success." She pointed to the cave again, " We don't have much time, I'm afraid. Can't stay her to debate this with you, I have to get the fifth portal up and running." She glanced around nervously. " Hopefully I can find someone for it."

Ron nodded mechanically, then turned and waved a hand over his head before continuing into the caves. " You go ahead and do that then. I'm going in." Anything just to be away from _her_.

White or no, this witch made him feel even more jumpy than a cat on a hot tin roof.

---

Alexandra raced down the halls like a jackrabbit in a wild rush for it's den. _I have to find Veronica! And quickly! _She'd already searched most the manor, and after several minutes of this her main wounds had pretty much healed, and she'd taken the liberty of changing clothes as well. She'd had to. The ones she'd been wearing had been almost completely burned off.

Now she was dressed for the occasion in a pair of designer jeans and a light blue shirt. It was a darn good thing Veronica had remembered to put a wardrobe in her new 'room'. Sultan sprang at her heels, struggling to keep up.

Door ahead. Alexandra slammed on the brakes and thrust it open to reveal....an empty room. So much for that.

" Darnnit! I feel like I've opened every door in this castle! " The frustrated Ashford exclaimed. Useless. Where _was_ Veronica? Her parents didn't have forever!

" Veronica? Ver...ouch! " Having finally caught up to his mistress, Sultan had decided that now was the perfect time for play and was now batting Alexandra's ankles with his oversized paws. What was painful were the claws he'd forgotten to retract.

Alexandra smiled good naturedly and patted the cub on the head. " Easy there, Sultan. You could end up hurting both of us."

Unfortunately, Sultan interpreted that as _'Let's play!' _In his excitement_, _he grabbed Alexandra's hand with both paws and bit in with needle-like teeth just a tad too hard.

" Ouch! " Alexandra shook her hand free and instantly covered it before the bleeding scratches could burst into flame. " Bad Sultan! " She scolded, trying her best at an angry-face, " It's not a good idea to go around biting and clawing people. Especially when they have the T-Veronica virus." She shuddered, " You could burn yourself. Or mutate. Or both! " She wagged a finger at the naughty cub.

Sultan sat on his haunches, perplexed. For all he was concerned, Alexandra may just as well have scolded him for pouncing on a ball. Of course it could be hard to tell when his mistress was displeased sometimes. Alexandra never got all that mad, and when she did she never really did much. Once or twice she'd given him a swat on the butt, and while she easily could have knocked the cub clear into next week with her super-strength, she was always so careful that the 'spankings' felt more like love-taps.

" Alexandra? Is that you? " Ash's voice called from down the hall.

Ash! Perhaps _he'd _know where to find Veronica!

" Yes I'm coming! " Alexandra shot down the hall and nearly collided with her older brother in the end room. Sultan, of course, was quick to follow.

Ash turned and regarded his little sister who was bouncing about wildly reminding him of one of those tiny rubber balls that you get from the toy machines. Her icy blue eyes flashed with equally as passionate excitement.

" Where's Veronica? I need to find her! "

Clearly it was a game, and Sultan bounced right along, trying to catch her feet.

Ash frowned. Had every last ounce of sanity left this castle? " Dear sweet _humble _Veronica," He answered as sarcastically as possible, " Decided to turn herself into a bird and fly out the window." He shook his head, " The woman's screws are so loose she's falling apart. She's at least five times worse than Dad on 'those days'."

Of course by _'those days' _Ash was referring to Alfred's cross-dressing fits. All the Ashford kids had seen at least a couple of those at some point or another. It always annoyed the heck out of the _real _Alexia.

Alexandra stopped instantly, an urgent wave of sadness sweeping her face. " But we have to find her! Mom and Dad are..."

" _Yeeeeoowch! _" Ash cursed loudly, interrupting his little sister. He looked down to see a happy Sultan attached firmly to his ankle, sharp teeth sinking through the fabric of his sock and into his skin. " You little..." With an angry snarl, Ash shook his foot free and kicked the cub. Hard.

" Miiiaoowff! " A frightened Sultan dashed to the corner of the room.

" Hey! " Alexandra shot Ash a poisonous look, " Do not _kick _my tiger! He's just a baby! "

Ash snorted. " Well that baby _bit_ me! "

" He didn't mean anything! He was only trying to play you big mean...meanie! "

Ash feigned a surprised, hurt look. " Meanie? You slash me with your words! " He laughed, sparing a glance at the shaken tiger cub huddled in a protective ball against the far wall, " That cat gets in my way again I'll be using him in place of a football! "

" No! " Alexandra rushed over and snuggled the upset cub. " You won't or else I'll..."

" What? " Ash chuckled, finding the prospect of fluffy wuffy Carebear Alexandra doing _anything_ quite amusing, " Tell Mommy and Daddy? I shiver with fear." Alexia wouldn't care and Alfred wouldn't be able to do anything even if he did.

" Actually, I was thinking more along the lines of Veronica when she gets back. She really likes Sultan. See? " She pointed to the cub's fancy collar.

Ash's smirk evaporated. Suddenly he didn't feel so smug. " Veronica? What makes you think that she would...."

" _You Say It Best_." Alexandra grinned.

Ash's hear fluttered in horror. " No! That crazy loon dances like she's got two left feet! "

" I'll tell her." Alexandra threatened calmly, " Unless you apologize." She scooped cub the up in both arms and rubbed under his chin.

Ash raised an eyebrow in surprise. " You want _me _to apologize to a stupid furball? " Absurd!

" _Tiger_." Alexandra corrected, " And he's _not_ stupid."

Ash turned his nose up at the very thought. " An Ashford," He huffed, " Does _not_ apologize."

Alexandra began to sing, " _It's amazing how you can speak right to my heart_..."

" Okay okay! I'm sorry! " Degrading as it was to apologize to _anyone_, much less a stupid animal, the horrible image of being flung around the room yet again to the tune of godawful music had a way of gripping the mind.

Alexandra nodded. " Apology accepted. Sultan forgives you."

Ash was about to make a rude remark about dumb animals, then bit his tongue. It just wasn't worth invoking Veronica's wrath for a few laughs. Instead he chose to switch the topic of conversation.

" So, what were you saying about Mom and Dad? "

Alexandra's triumphant smile faded instantly. " Oh! It's really awful! They're shackled to the wall with unbreakable bonds and Nosferatu is tearing them apart! Ash, we have to do something! If we get Veronica she could undo the spell...."

Ash had to laugh at his sibling's naivety." And what makes you think she'd do that? Did you hit your head hard or did you forget that _Veronica's_ the one who put them there in the first place! " It was a valid point. Much as Ash hated the idea of his mother suffering in some twisted Veronica-version of Hell, there was nothing they could do about it. _I'm sorry Mother. But I can't help you. I'm sure you understand. _She _would_ understand, right? Surely she would see that there was nothing he could do....

Alexandra set a now-content Sultan down and turned to head out of the room.

" Where do you think _you're _going? " Ash scoffed, " She's never going to change her mind! "

" She might." Alexandra decreed, and when she turned her head over her shoulder for the faintest of moments to beckon her pet to follow, Ash saw the faint glean of tears in her eyes, " I have to _try_."

For once, Ash was speechless.

What did you say to that?

----

Fifteen minutes later, and Alexandra wasn't any closer to finding the exit to this lonely castle than she was to finding Veronica. It was her plan to go outside and try to find the deranged sorceress, but that just wasn't happening. She'd went downstairs--she _had _to be on the bottom floor now--but there was still no clue as to where the door might be. To makes matters worse, all the windows she'd encountered thus far were not only locked tight with no way to open them, they were also unbreakable, as she'd learned the hard way. Veronica must have some sort of spell around them, protecting them from harm. Alexandra doubted her mother's strength placed behind a sledgehammer would chip them.

" There has to be a door around here somewhere, doesn't there? " Alexandra asked the tiger with a disheartened sigh. She sat down on the bottom step for a quick rest, and a chance to get her thoughts together. This was turning into quite the chore. Why couldn't Veronica just stay in one place for a change?

Without warning, Sultan pounced into her lap and began happily licking her fingers.

In spite of her current mood, Alexandra managed a small smile. " There has to be a way..." She stroked the cub's back, fingers brushing through soft fur, " unless...." a terrible thought entered her mind, and her glacier blue eyes welled with fear, " What if Veronica doesn't have a door because she doesn't _need _one? She could just teleport in and out anytime she wanted! "

" Meaowlf. " Sultan agreed simply, apparently assuming that was a _good _thing.

Alexandra was about to reply when the air in front of her just..._opened up_. There was no other way to describe it. The air opened up, and the space inside _rippled_.

" Veronica? " The blonde-haired child jerked up with a start and backed away, just in case the sorceress happened to be in a sour mood. Sultan leapt behind her heels and crouched to the floor, watching the strange phenomenon from between his mistress's legs. A single blinding _flash_ of white, and a woman stood near the stairs. To Alexandra's utter amazement, it wasn't Veronica.

" Greetings young one." The white-dressed blonde-haired woman announced, " My name is Angelique and I am a white witch. Do not be afraid."

Alexandra blinked. Actually, she was more startled than afraid. Magic was becoming commonplace around these parts anymore. " Um...hi." She waved a few fingers, still unsure quite what to make of a 'white witch' who just popped in out of the blue. " I'm Alexandra." She curtsied politely, getting a smile from Angelique.

" You're awfully polite for an Ashford." Hard to believe such a nice child was in fact a direct descendant of the loathed Veronica.

Alexandra nodded. " I get that a lot. You're awfully nice yourself."

**_Very_** hard to believe. Angelique's eyes traveled nervously around the room. Veronica was currently out playing a little game of catch-the-stick as a falcon, but that wouldn't last forever. Time was of the essence.

" Alexandra, listen." The witch's eyes came to rest on the youngest member of her foe's family, " I have an important mission for you. You see, your ancestor Veronica is an evil sorceress who wants to kill almost everything and everyone in the whole world. At midnight tonight she's going to perform a spell that will conjure up massive hurricanes, catastrophic floods, devistating tornados, fires, and earthquakes the like of which has never been seen." To drive her point home further, she locked eyes with the child, " Alexandra, she's going to kill ¾ of the life on this planet to make way for her own little world. A world with _her _creatures, _her_ landforms, and _her_ people. Anyone who survives will serve only as her slave. She'll rule over all like a god."

Alexandra's eyes widened with surprise. Veronica hadn't seemed _that _bad. She really wanted to do all _that_?!

" That's horrible! "

The witch nodded urgently. The clock was ticking, and she was trying to speed this along as quickly as possible. " Yes, it is. But we can stop her. There's a magical staff known as the Hylen which has the power to defeat Veronica. Trouble is, Veronica split it into five pieces and hid each piece in a different time-warp. They could be anyplace, anytime. I've already sent some people out to retrieve four of the five pieces, but you must use the fifth portal to retrieve the last piece. The magic for the space-time portals only works on this island, and you're the last person here I can trust. Time is of the essence. Will you do it? "

How could she refuse? Alexandra nodded. Saving her parents was important, but so was saving the world. " Alright. But do you think you could help my parents? They're stuck up in the top tower and Veronica has a hideous monster torturing them."

" Of course. I'll...see what I can do." Angelique promised, " But we must act quickly! Veronica could be back any second! "

" What does the Hylen look like? "

Angelique waved her hand in a circular motion before replying, " It's a staff made of white wood carved with golden runes. The tip is a bloodred garnet orb about the size of a coconut. You'll know it when you see it. And you'll have exactly eight hours to retrieve it. Once that eight hours is up, you will automatically be teleported back here with or without it. Keep it hidden from Veronica, if she finds out what you're up to all is lost." The witch stepped back, and the area in which she'd made circles with her hand began to swirl.

A tiny green vortex appeared in the center, no bigger than a quarter. Faster and faster it spun, pulling in more mass and growing larger and larger. Within moments, it was the size of a basketball. Then a hula-hoop. Then a swimming pool. It made no noise save a faint eerie crackling; a sound akin to Rice Krispies cereal when milk was poured into the bowl.

Without thinking about it, Alexandra reached down to pick up her cub. At that very instant, a snake of black lightening erupted from the collage of swirling greens and snagged her torso.

" Good luck! " That was the last thing Alexandra Ashford heard before she was snapped into the gaping maw of the mystical gateway and darkness claimed her.

****


	19. Another Place, Another Time

Chapter 19

Dark gray clouds completely blanketed the sky overhead, stretching from horizon to horizon as far as the eye could see and casting the land below into a deep shadow. A gentle rain fell, running off the roofs of the buildings and collecting in the gutters. It was merely the beginning of what was sure to develop into a much worse storm, and gave the entire area a kind of foreboding, gloomy atmosphere.

_Where am I? _Alexis walked a narrow alley between two large buildings she didn't readily recognize, searching for some clue to her silent question. Wherever she was, the place appeared to be abandoned. Nobody had been there to greet her when her portal had appeared and spat her out a block or so over next to a big wooden building sporting a few unpainted steps leading up to a neglected veranda. The entire area had been enclosed with a high metal fence, giving Alexis the impression that it was probably a dog run.

Needless to say, it hadn't taken her long to find her way out of there. She still didn't know if there were any dogs in that pen. She hadn't stayed around to look.

Now she was faced with the more daunting task of finding someone alive to talk to in this ghost town.

If you could call it a town. Towns generally had stores, post offices, police departments, and....and this was a really major one...people. So far Alexis had seen nothing to indicate that this collection of uninviting buildings was anything more than a base of some sort.

__

A base. I hope not. Which means it probably is. Aren't I lucky today? Odds were ten to one that this wasn't going to turn out well.

Where was everyone at? The lack of life around these parts was very unnerving. Alexis felt like the only survivor in some great catastrophe.

" Hello? Anyone here? " Her only answer was the rumble of thunder not too far off in the distance. Even the animals were being unusually quiet. Well, given the fact that a big storm was brewing, that actually made some sense. Unlike...

_Perfect. Guess I'm going this one solo. How very kind of my portal to 'decide' I should do this alone while other people get partners. Hmphf. And just for the record, how exactly does Angelique expect me to find a piece of the Hylen if I don't even know where **I'm** at, much less **it**?_

Good question.

With a sad sigh, she continued into the next yard, paying very close attention to her surroundings. Much to her dismay, this yard was just as desolate as the last. What was going on here? The bad feeling she had had straight from the beginning was growing with each second.

One of her questions was about to be answered.

A shift of the breeze brought the all too familiar reek of rotting flesh. _Of course, _Alexis thought sarcastically, wrinkling her nose, _I am Alexis, this is my life. At least now I know why nobody's up and about. There's been a viral spill. And...my god, it's so sad when you've been through enough of them to notice the signs immediately_.

Well, this certainly was no good. A viral spill. All the millions of times and places she could have been sent to, and the magical portal had decided on a viral spill. Yep, Veronica's hex about it being a worse-case scenario for the individual involved was working perfectly. Stupid hex.

So what else was there around here?

Apparently not a whole lot.

Nothing to the left. Nothing to the right. More strange buildings dead ahead. Since they didn't look prehistoric--quite the opposite, in fact--she obviously hadn't gone all that far back in time.

Bugger. There went those fantasies of going back and meeting someone famous like Alexander the Great. The shape and design of the buildings and fences all suggested a much more recent time. She was, at most, twenty years back in the past. And that was pushing it.

_Alright, so where would I go to find a magical piece of white wood carved with symbols?_

She had no time to think about it, however, as just then gunfire exploded all around. _'Bam! Bambambambam!' _Clods of dirt exploded near her feet, missing their target by mere inches.

Attack!

Quick on her feet, Alexis dodged to the left and ducked safely behind the back of a large gray building. There, heart hammering away at ninety miles a minute, the shaken blonde scrambled not only to catch her breath, but also to make sense of what had just happened. _Who's shooting?! Man, two minutes here, and I already _hate this place.

After another five seconds the gunfire ceased. Apparently the shooter had decided she wasn't going to come back out for another round.

It wasn't inaccurate. Alexis was curious as to who her attacker was, but not curious enough to risk a quick peek around the wall. No amount of curiosity was worth a faceful of lead.

The people around here obviously weren't friendly. She was going to have to watch her step.

" Someone alive down there? " A young man's confused voice called out.

" Barely! Do you always shoot first and ask questions later? " Alexis huffed. Something familiar about his voice. Something...." Steve?! "

It was Steve! Alexis was so excited she almost fell around the bend trying to get a good view. Just ahead of where she'd played that frightening little round of 'dodge the bullets' was a big wooden watchtower, and sliding down it's slick pole was the lithe form of Steve, Steve Burnside!

" Steve! You're alright! " Alexis couldn't help but to smile as her friend approached. This was wonderful! Now she had a partner to help her out of this mess, now she wouldn't have to search alone! 

Steve approached slowly, gun dangling at his side, eyeing the young woman warily as if she were some stranger he didn't trust. He was a bit thinner than she remembered, and his face was paler and dirtier than it had been yesterday, but it was still the same guy. Ten feet away from her, he froze, a confused expression working across his face.

" Barely. How...how do you know my name? "

_Uh-oh. _Alexis's thoughts screeched to a grinding halt. " Steve, it's me. " She sputtered nervously. He would remember. He _had_ to remember. " Don't you remember? " She had a very bad feeling he wouldn't.

Steve snorted, and all hopes harbored of this being the 2004 Steve vaporized in that instant. " How can I remember someone I've never met? "

She felt his eyes on her, and for a horrible moment worried he was going to raise the gun and shoot her just on principal_. Ugh. When I get back to the future, Steve is so going to get_ it! An awkward lump welled in her throat, and she swallowed nervously. This was a fine mess. What to say?

" I'm sorry, I guess I mistook you for someone else."

Steve's expression hardened. " Yeah, well there's a lot of that going around." He couldn't seem to take his eyes off her outfit, " I thought you were one of those zombies."

Alexis was taken aback. " Me? A _zombie_?! " How could anyone make that mistake? She glanced down at what she was wearing. True, a bright red sun-shirt and a pair of beige shorts complimented by strap-sandals did make her look suspiciously out of place on a cold stormy day, but not enough to be mistaken for a carrier of the T-virus. " Do I _look _like a zombie? You could have killed me! "

Steve shook his head, wet clumps of dark red-brown hair sticking stubbornly to the side of his face. " Nuh-uh." He narrowed his eyes, and his voice shifted to a dangerous low growl. " But you do look like an Ashford. You wouldn't happen to be Alexia, would you? " His hand tightened around the gun.

" No! No I'm not Alexia! " Alexia's daughter countered quickly, " I'm...." Can't be an Ashford-sounding name... " Rashel. Rashel Goodwyn."

Steve's fingers relaxed, but his scowl didn't. " Well, good for you. You're not one of the people I hate." He turned around and headed off in the general direction of the watch-tower. " Good luck Rashel. You're going to need it."

" Wait! " Alexis might as well have saved her breath. Rather than waiting, Steve only sped up and disappeared swiftly around a corner making it painfully clear that he didn't want to be followed.

That did it. Future Steve was no longer allowed to make jokes about the _Ashfords_ being rude. The guy could hold his own in the campaigns for Jerk-Of-The-Year. _So much for not going it solo._

Then it hit her like a train: This place was Rockfort Island. During the outbreak Claire and Steve were always talking about. _Yipes! I'm an Ashford. On Rockfort Island. During a time when it's a very, very bad idea to **be** an Ashford on Rockfort Island._

If she'd been near a bed, Alexis would have dived in and pulled the blankets up over her head.

Suddenly this whole going back in time thing wasn't so fun.

Suddenly life sucked beyond words.

-----

The dining room was empty. Empty, but full of life. A happy fire crackled in in the lavish hearth, bathing the black and white checkered floor in a warm yellow glow and fending off the coldness which threatened to chill the room. Directly in front of the hearth, not more than seven feet away from it in fact, was a long wooden table laden only with a dull, worn tablecloth and a few silver candleholders containing several solid white candles. Bits of fire danced merrily on the wicks, casting playful shadows across the table and far walls. Their lives were half spent, and it was almost as if they were conscious of this and trying to get the best they could out of the time they had left. A few elegant pictures adorned the walls, each placed carefully to achieve just the right feel. Some were done in oils, and some of the oils were cracked in places where the owner had neglected to varnish. They showed scenes of important battles, lush landscapes, and important nobles in some way or another connected to the residents' history. From under a thin coat of dust, a grandfather clock ticked steadily, reminding the world that time did not stand still.

Time may not have stood still, but the air in the room sure did. The place was as quiet as an abandoned tomb in a midnight crypt, saving the crackling of the fire and the ticking of the clock.

Outside the windows a storm raged violently, pouring bucket-loads of rain down from the heavens and startling the earth with sudden thunderous _'boom!'_s. Quite frequently, a brilliant flash of lightening split the sky, turning blackest night into brightest day for the briefest of moments.

A typical stormy night.

Well, maybe not so typical after all.

To one end of the table, just before the main door leading out into the drawing room, the air suddenly began to shimmer, as if the whole setup were a mere illusion. A second later and a wild, swirling vortex of green exploded into existence, retching forth it's two passengers before disappearing just as quickly as it had came.

A startled Alan and Seth took in their new surroundings.

" Hey! What was..."

_" Ka-BOOM! "_

Seth jumped back out of reflex as a crack of thunder so loud it shook the windows roared overhead. The lightning bolt that had preceded it had apparently hit very close by. The teenager's eyes lit up in a wild excitement.

" Easy there, it's just thunder." A hint of a smile played at the edges of Alan' s lips as he turned to regard his comrade. There was something oddly satisfying about seeing him jump like that.

" Oh. I knew that." Seth gushed automatically, embarrassed. Hoping for a quick change of subject, he again glanced around the room. " So Alan, where and when do you think we are? "

Alan's slight smirk was quickly replaced with a frown. There was something wrong with this picture. Something very, _very_ wrong. He inhaled sharply, his extraordinary sense of smell quick to detect the overwhelming odors of blood, gunpowder, decayed flesh, and...

" T-virus! "

" Oh man," Seth groaned, " For just once, why can't it be the Cute-virus? Or puppies? " Why couldn't they have gotten sent back to a sunny beach in the fifties or whatever? Why did everything always have to center around bio-weapons, viruses, blood, and guts? Plus the general peeing of pants and nearly getting killed every step of the way. _For just once, can't my life be a little more like 'Baywatch'?_

" Because Umbrella doesn't deal in puppies." Alan answered, shifting his fiery gaze to the hearth. There was an indentation above where something was missing from the mantel. Perhaps the biggest surprise of all was that that came as no surprise. " And when you're an Umbrella scientist, your top priority is to concoct the weirdest, most lethal virus you can and inject every animal slash plant slash person under the sun with it until you get a better bio-monster than Sam or Joe over in the next research department. It's like a sick, twisted version of _Pokémon_."

Seth shook his head, making a face. " T-virus? Are you sure? Because I always thought that limburger cheese smelled like T-virus and..."

" Trust me Seth, I know T-virus when I smell it." Alan wrinkled his nose in disgust, " Come to think of it, it does smell something like limburger cheese but..." he shook his head, " that's not the point. I have a very bad feeling I know where and when we are."

" Well, we're not alone, that's for sure." Seth pointed a finger at the remnants of a broken gray statue littering the black and white floor tiles.

Both men glanced up to see another level overhead--a giant walkway running the perimeter lined with flimsy wooden rails. The rail just above the statue fragments was missing. Figured.

" Someone around here's either very clumsy, or very infected." Seth bit his lower lip nervously. He had a sinking feeling he knew where they were at too.

With a slight sigh, Alan started towards the fireplace, re-sweeping the entire room with his enhanced vision along the way. He was following one scent in particular--blood.

Seth followed in the rear, paying no respect whatsoever to the term _'personal bubble'_. It wasn't so much the thunder and lightning scaring him now as the eerie howls he heard between intervals. Wild cries of some demonic, untamed beasts.

_Sounds almost like dogs..._

The dark-haired teenager was so caught up in his visions of nightmarish hell-beasts that when Alan came to a sudden unexpected stop he plowed right into him.

" Hey! "

" Sorry." He followed his cousin's eyes down to a large pool of blood on the floor. It was still liquid and appeared frighteningly fresh. " Whose is it? " Seth swallowed. He'd never liked the sight of blood.

Then another thought occurred. _Aw man, I hope Alan doesn't think I'm a wuss or something. _

Attempting to sound more bold, he added, " I mean, just for the record."

Alan shook his head slowly, his expression unreadable. " Like I know. It doesn't smell familiar. But it's owner has the T-virus." He straightened, turned to face the door leading into another room.

" What is it? " Seth wondered, mildly jealous.

Why couldn't _he_ have a super-sniffer?

Well, ok, sure, there were probably some things better left un-smelt but...

" Gunpowder." Alan's unenthused frown said it all. " Come on." He opened the door and stepped into a dimly lit hall. The path to the right looked normal enough, but a scene of horror waited in the mini-lounge to the left.

Two dead men lay sprawled out on the floor in awkward, unnatural angles, each drenched in a sea of blood. One was plainly a zombie, dressed in a beige workpants and a torn, white labcoat that was spattered red in countless places with blood. His decayed, gray skin peeled off him in flakes, leaving a foul odor in the air. He appeared to have been shot multiple times.

Off to his right was a much fresher corpse with dark skin clad in a flak-jacket and combat gear. His severed head lay several feet away from his body, faced turned, thankfully, to look under one of the green lounge chairs.

Alan grimaced in disgust, but he wasn't really surprised to see bodies. After all his years of experience training with his father and raiding bases, he'd seen more than his fair share of casualties. Plenty of those casualties were results of the T and G viruses. A few zombie-kills were nothing new. It would take more than that to freak him out.

" Alan! What are you doing? I can't see! " Seth complained, trying to steal a glance to either side of his black-clad friend, " What's in there? "

" Trust me, you don't want to know." Alan answered coolly, dimming his eyes to their natural blue-green for the sake of not seeing every grotesque detail. He had a feeling his inquisitive young friend was going to see it anyway.

Seth did not disappoint. The second Alan moved a few more steps into the room, he took a good look.

" Oh...my..._god! _" For a second he just stood there, rooted firmly to the spot, mouth hung open slightly and fear-struck eyes as wide as saucers. " Okay Alan. You can get back in my way now. Hurry! " He brought a hand up over his nose and mouth and turned away, barely stifling the urge to hurl.

This wasn't just gross.

This was _beyond _gross.

He could have lived his entire life happily _without ever _seeing that. Curiosity killed the cat. _Why do I always have to do the opposite of what everyone tells me? I must be stupid._

" Told you you didn't want to know." Alan replied humorlessly, taking care to avoid stepping in all of the blood, viscera, and other bodily fluids staining the rug. He bent over the headless corpse. This guy looked familiar somehow...he _had_ to have identification on him somewhere.

Having successfully quelled his urge to add to the mess in the hall, Seth braced himself and joined Alan's side.

It helped a little to think of it all as just the set of some slasher movie with lots of fake blood and dummies. _Concentrate Seth. Don't think about all the body parts squishing beneath the heels of your boots, just....be calm and...._and how could Alan stand this?

With a careful hand, Alan flipped the body over.

The _S.T.A.R.S. _insignia was visible on the left breast-patch of the uniform.

" Fuck."

Seth jerked back in surprise. He hadn't really thought of Alan as the type to swear much. He was about to ask what was wrong--other than the obvious--when the T-2 carrier looked up and caught his eye.

" Stars." He shook his head sadly, eyes swiftly returning to the dead man, " We're back in the Spencer Mansion. During the night of the incident."

Seth flinched, suddenly _very _uncomfortable. " Ouch. That's not a good thing." He understated.

" And that's not the worst of it." Alan stood up and faced his younger relative.

At first Seth imagined he was merely saddened. Maybe a bit embarrassed as well. After all, it _was_ Alan's dad who had lead the original S.T.A.R.S. members into the zombie-equivalent of a shooting gallery. No sane son wanted to be able to claim that.

But no, looking closer, Seth saw an emotion which by far eclipsed any sadness or shame Alan might be feeling; an emotion he never dreamed he'd see on anyone bearing the last name _Wesker_.

Fear.

Alan was frightened.

Or at the very least considerably worried about something.

Either way Seth took that as a very, _very _bad sign. T-2 carriers were generally not easy to spook.

" What? " Though he hadn't intended it to, the question came out barely above a whisper.

Alan's face fell. Blue-green eyes flitted about nervously, settling on the picture of the mansion, the wall, the rug, _anywhere _but Seth.

" I...I..." Alan almost choked on the words, " I think I lost my virus."

---

A haunting night wind howled over desolate streets , whistling through the broken windows of long since abandoned houses and lifting up the lighter debris for a free ride through a dark, gloomy city. The bright light of a full moon shone down on a disaster. Houses, buildings, shops, cars--everything out in the city was broken, beaten, and shattered. The entire street was cluttered with empty cars in various degrees of disrepair; almost all had dented fenders and broken windows. Laying in the midst of this giant junkyard were throngs upon throngs of dead bodies--people and animal alike--choking the air with the powerful stench of decay. Traffic lights swayed with the wind, but no light emitted from them. A lone bicycle perched against a now nonfunctional lamppost, heavily rusted from years of neglect. The buildings lining the streets stood dark and lifeless; the last silent spectators to some catastrophic disaster.

Under the pale moon, ruin stretched as far as the eye could see; the entire city was little more than a massive graveyard.

A graveyard in which the occupants refused to rest in peace.

The metropolis may have been dead, but it still bustled with activity. The melancholic moans of zombies filled the air. Their feet shuffled with sickeningly wet, squishy noises as they stalked the city they called home in search of live prey.

Three figures stood in the center of what had once been the main drag, shrouded in shadow. They had no idea _where_, much less _when _they were. Two of the figures, Claire and Jill were in a state of complete shock. It was Raccoon City all over again!

" Oh man. " Chris groaned, rubbing his temple, " Two guesses as to where we're at."

A few zombies rose up from behind the crashed cars ahead, moaning in delight at the sound of fresh meat so close by. It wasn't a pretty sight. They were so old most of their faces were rotted all the way through and what was left of their clothes hung in shredded tatters from their ashen gray flesh.

" You think we're in Raccoon City? " Jill shook her head, trying desperately to clear it of the grotesque images of the scene ahead. Images she would have been just as happy to go her whole life _without ever _seeing_. For just **once** couldn't we go somewhere that **didn't** involve zombies, monsters, super-mutants or Umbrella_?

" No," Claire spoke up, her wary eye on the first of the zombie horde closing the gap between itself and them, " It's too big to be Raccoon City. And none of the area looks familiar."

" I'll say." Jill agreed grimly, " And since when did Raccoon City have a Carl's Junior? " She pointed in the direction of the restaurant. It's trademark yellow smiling star could just barely be discerned in the soft moonlight.

Chris shook his head, his mouth pulled into a tight line. They were in the middle of some infected city somewhere with no weapons and no idea where a piece of the Hylen might be hidden. It was a pretty grim predicament. Especially since zombies weren't likely to be the only threat. Wherever there was a viral spill you could usually count on finding B.O.W.s....

" Does anyone here have a weapon? " Jill panicked, the full horror. Of the situation sinking in. Her near-death experience with Olivia drove home just how helpless the group was without them. Out of impulse, she fished around in her shorts pockets for anything she could use to defend herself, wincing at the discomfort in her arm.

" I have a combat knife." Chris announced with a frustrated sigh. He reached down and pulled the weapon from it's sheath, suddenly feeling very vulnerable. 

A combat knife. Right. Like _that_ was going to do anything. The zombies would just laugh and use it to cut him up for supper. Had years of killing his way through Umbrella bases taught him nothing? All the weapons in the world he could carry for backup and somehow, someway, through some cruel twist of fate, he always ended up with the stupid combat knife.

Jill was none too thrilled with her husband's choice in weaponry either. " Right. Does anyone _else_ have a weapon? Claire? " She shot a hopeful glance to the younger woman, who was already turning her pockets out.

" Nope. Nothing." Claire hadn't thought to bring any weapons along. After all, it was _supposed _to have been a fun-filled family outing, not a friggen _'raid the Umbrella base' _mission. Who in their right mind brought grenade launchers to a picnic along the beach?

" Uhhhnnnn." The closest zombie called out in greeting, stumbling forward at a fast but awkward pace. His buddies in the back had to climb over cars to catch up, a task which was readily accepted. For the zombie, the entire world was broken down into two categories: food and non-food. The living, breathing humans nearby would make a tasty meal.

Unfortunately for the zombies, S.T.A.R.S. were of a different opinion.

" What are we waiting for? Let's get out of here! " Claire turned on her heel and sped off in the opposite direction. It was too dark to see exactly where she was going, and she had gotten no more than five feet before she almost tripped over something foul languishing in the street, but running off into the unknown was vastly more appealing than the idea of just standing there and becoming a buffet for hungry zombies.

" I'm with ya! " Jill agreed, speeding along after her dark-haired friend as quickly as she could feeling so sore and beaten.

" You ladies get a head start, I'll cover you! " Chris declared boldly, swiping the almighty knife through the air in a macho-gesture intended to make the women feel better.

" Watch yourself! " Jill called over her shoulder, weaving her way after Claire through the maze of wrecked vehicles to the shelter of the nearest building, " I am _not _losing you too! " The last was spoken vehemently. Jill was sick to the back teeth of seeing people she cared about die or get hurt. From now on, she vowed, she would be a better mother and wife.

Chris nodded in response and turned back to face the rushing horde. It was his intention to delay the zombies considerably to make sure the girls had enough time to get to cover without being seen. Then he'd meet up with them and talk strategy. However, his plan had a tiny flaw, as he was soon to discover.

Wow. Who knew zombies could move so fast? By the time he turned back around Leader Zombie had already caught right up with him!

" Uuuuuhhhn! " Leader Zombie announced before making the lunge! He was so quick.

Chris leapt back, but he hadn't seen the overturned garbage can blocking the path right behind him. Tripping over it, he landed on his butt in front of the rancid T-carrier.

Now, zombies don't really feel emotions, but Chris swore this one looked elated. It grinned, revealing rows of sickly rotted yellow teeth in it's maggot-ridden mouth. A single black eye gleaned in the left eye-socket, and most of the hair had already fallen off it's diseased, flaking scalp. Hard to tell whether it had been male or female.

The stench was unbearable. Chris gagged and was forced to hold his breath. Then that awful smile grew wider. It was all the warning the S.T.A.R.S. captain had before the lunge.

_Clack!_

The zombie's jaws snapped shut on air as Chris swatted it's head to one side.

Too close! A millimeter more and Leader Zombie would have gotten lucky. Determined to keep the score in his favor, Chris scooted backward on his rear like a madman. There was no time to do anything else--if he even _looked _like he was going to think about trying to stand that virus-carrier would be on him faster than Wesker.

Close! He was still too close!

Leader Zombie lunged again, and this time dirty nails ripped into the loose fabric of his shirt, lightly scratching his shoulders. He was trapped!

_Damnohdamndamndamn! _Desperate, Chris swung his knife-arm and swiped the zombie in the face, trailing a wake of gooey congealed black blood. It barely slowed the creature down. There was no question about it: if Chris didn't so something quick he was a goner.

Calling up on all his reserves of strength, and not caring about the consequences, he lurched backward with the force of small rocket while simultaneously lashing out with both feet, catching Leader Zombie full in the chest. His head hit hard against the garbage can, making a consider clatter as he struggled to regain his footing.

No use! More zombies closing in! Leader Zombie had bought them time.

A list of obscenities raced through Chris's mind. Knife at the ready, he backed away as quickly as he could without falling over, an act which was sure to be fatal in these conditions.

The zombies were approaching fast. No way he could take them all on with his knife. Frantic, he surveyed the scene. Too many cars to the left. Too many to the right. It would cost him precious time getting over those, and even then it was too dark to see what might be laying in wait on the other side. Blocking the path behind, of course, was that stupid garbage can...._bingo_.

There was no more time for decisions, just _action_! Performing a risky backward _leap_ over the can, Chris landed on his feet and kicked it as hard as he possibly could at the approaching horde.

Worked like a charm. Their delicate sense of balance upset, the zombies went down like pins in a bowling alley.

" Strike! " Chris grinned, feeling quite pleased with himself. Satisfied that he was once again safe--at least for the moment--he was about to turn and bolt when a flash of motion several cars down the street behind the zombies caught his eye.

A black shadow leapt up into the crisp nighttime sky; a dark phantom temporarily silhouetted against the soft glow of the moon. A second later and the zombies at the very back of the group were sent flying off the sides of the street with the force of being shot out of a cannon. _Whoa, what the hell is **that**?!_

Good question.

It happened so fast Chris barely had time to register before the last of the standing zombies were cast aside into the walls of the surrounding buildings with such force they almost exploded on impact.

On the ground near the fallen garbage can, Leader Zombie and two of his closest buds were just starting to get up. They never made it that far. Black boots crushed their heads into a sickening gooey mush with single blows.

Chris's heart leapt into his throat. He knew this person!

" _Wesker?! _" _Oh man, I am seriously dead! _There was no way he was going to be able to outrun his ex-boss in this mess, and he had a snowball's chance in Hell of besting the other man in a fight, even with the aid of the trusty combat knife. He was pretty much screwed.

Wesker tilted his head to one side, obviously amused. " Close." He took a step closer, sending Chris scurrying backwards.

_Waitaminute....that's not Wesker! _But with short blonde hair, Wesker-esque features, and black shades firmly in place over his eyes, the man sure looked like him. He was clad form head to toe in black gear, a stylish black leather jacket unzipped to reveal a black T-shirt underneath. In addition to this he wore black biker gloves and black jeans. No wonder he'd been so hard to spot in the dark.

Chris narrowed his eyes and studied his face. " Alan? " He uttered in disbelief. This was seriously creepy. It looked like Alan, only...different somehow. And the voice was deeper, more threatening.

Alan's initial expression had been one of confident curiosity, but at the sound of his name his lips twisted into a wicked smirk. To Chris's surprise, the only answer he got was a cold, ruthless chuckle.

It sounded exactly like Wesker.

_What the hell is going on here?! _Chris's mind panicked, and he was right to worry. No sooner had he opened his mouth to put his thoughts into words than Alan attacked!

The next few seconds went by in a blur. All the confused S.T.A.R.S. member saw was a flash of motion before a sharp pain wracked his stomach and he became airborne--all the wind effectively knocked out of his body.

------

Claire and Jill were having a problem. A _big_ problem. Since they'd had no idea of which places were safe and which weren't, they'd ended up running down the wrong street and startled a monstrous--_thing_--into chasing them.

The thing in question was a hideous mutation covered with exposed pink rippling muscles and oozing, sickly flesh. Parts of it's apelike body were adorned with green scales. Huge claws dangled from it's fingers like sickles. When the beast opened it's short, stubby snout, a long piercing tongue darted over fearsome fangs. By all rights, it looked like some hellish hybrid of a hunter and a licker.

And it had them cornered.

In their dash to escape the thing, the terrified duo had ran straight into a dead end alley. Of course, they hadn't realized that until it was too late. It was an easy mistake--the only source of light was the moon.

" Well Jill, it was nice knowing you." Claire trembled, gripped with fear. With a monster in front and brick walls to either side and behind, it seemed a fitting goodbye. What else was there to do? They had no weapons, and neither one of them had been at one hundred percent health to start with. There was nothing handy to throw, and since they couldn't climb walls like Spiderman that left them in a very bad place indeed.

This was it. Game over.

" Same to you Claire. You were a great sister-in-law." Jill pressed her back against the cold stone and squeezed her eyes shut tightly. _Let it be quick. God, please let it be quick._

" Thanks. Back at ya." Claire returned. Though neither had said it aloud, they were going to fight back when the creature attacked. If they had to go out the creature wasn't going to get off easy, oh no. He was going to have to work for his food.

Too close for comfort, the ravenous beast moved in, ready for the kill. This time it would taste blood, this time it would dine on fresh flesh, this time it would...

Something in the air!

The licker/hunter ducked instinctively as a third morsel flew over it's head.

" Chris?! " Claire and Jill were effectively surprised.

The Redfield brother slammed the brick wall of the building behind him back-first, rapping his skull against the bricks. But by then his momentum had died down considerably, and instead of killing him the impact merely dazed him.

" Chris? What happened?! " A concerned Claire dashed to her fallen brother's side and began shaking his shoulder. For a fleeting moment, the hunter/licker was forgotten.

" Chris? Chris! " He _had _to respond!

Chris made a pathetic attempt to push Claire away.

Spinning. Everything was spinning so fast. Slow down! Why wouldn't it slow down? He wanted off.

Air. Lungs burning....Chris gasped for breath. He was still trying to make sense of the muddled sounds and fuzzy images.

Claire shook her head, worry manifesting over her face. " It's no use. He's been knocked senseless! "

" Look out! " Jill's warning came a millisecond too late.

The hunter/licker flew through the air: claws extended, fangs gleaming, saliva spraying in anticipation of the kill.

It never would have been a fair match.

Fortunately, this night, in this foreign, desolate era, Claire, Chris, and Jill happened to have a guardian angel watching over them. The very second the monster leaped the terrified S.T.A.R.S. heard a fearful roar and saw an orange-and-black flash of teeth and claws lunge from behind and hit the hunter/licker dead-on.

_" Aiieeeeeeyyyyy! " _The hunter/licker cried out as it's attack was killed midair and it collapsed to the ground. Sharp claws pierced over-exposed flesh and dug in violently. Vice-like jaws sporting pocket-knife fangs clamped forcefully over what was presumably the virus-carrier's throat.

" Is that a...."

" Tiger! " Jill exclaimed in awe, cutting Claire off mid-sentence.

The tiger was huge. Pound for pound it was at least twice as heavy as the beast it was attacking. Jill figured it would have to be a Siberian tiger, as none of the other subspecies got that big.

The battle was short and violent. The hunter/licker let out a series of high-pitched shrieks and thrashed madly in the big cat's grasp. The tiger retaliated by flipping over onto it's back--front claws still locked firmly in place--and pulled the creature over it's fluffy white stomach. Jill couldn't see the logic to the move until the awesome predator, still holding tight with it's front claws and teeth, began wildly rending the beast's undersides with it's hind feet and claws. Each rapid-fire kick tore away flesh and tissue in a bloody spray.

In less than a minute it was all over. The horrid monster that had very-nearly been the end of the three time-travelers fell silent and went limp in the tiger's hold.

In perfect timing, Chris chose that exact moment to come out of his daze. " Whoa! A tiger! " He jerked back in surprise and nearly hit his head again against the wall. " How'd it...what did...what's going on here?! " Chris was one very scared, very confused S.T.A.R.S. captain. Everything was happening so fast his brain was on overload and felt ready to explode any minute.

" It's a tiger..." Jill started.

" I'm not _blind_! " Chris snapped, circumstances making him much harsher than he would have liked.

" Maybe we can sneak past it while it eats the..." Claire's words died in her throat when the magnificent striped cat released it's kill and flipped back over onto it's feet with the kind of fluid grace only a feline can muster. Now it was checking them over with feral amber eyes, probably which looked tastiest.

" Forget the monster, I'd much rather be killed by a _tiger_." Claire groaned.

Nobody laughed.

The three friends braced themselves for the inevitable attack. They didn't have a steadfast plan, but it was at the back of each's mind to fight back together when the cat pounced.

It didn't.

Instead of lunging for the kill, the tiger merely paced back and forth, as if it were anxious about something. It kept glancing back the way it had came.

" What's it doing? " As one, both Redfield siblings turned expectantly to Jill. Apparently, being able to properly identify the beast made her an expert on tiger behavior.

Jill shrugged, but she found herself relaxing just a hair. " I don't know. This isn't hunting behavior."

" Then what kind of behavior is it? " Claire pressed, at ill ease having such a deadly animal in such close proximity. It was acting okay now, but that could change in a heartbeat. Wild animals were always unpredictable. You could never really trust them.

Jill shook her head. She knew a thing or two about tigers--she'd had to do a report on them once or twice in school--but she didn't consider herself to be an expert on the matter.

And, right now, her arm was hurting like crazy. The bandage was still in place, but it was amateur work nonetheless and the area where Olivia had sunk her teeth into was burning with pain.

" I'm not sure. It's like he's waiting for something."

As if on cue, a woman's voice rang out, " Sultan? Sultan! "

A dark figure stepped into the mouth of the alleyway, and a sudden bright beam of light played across both tiger and people. The tiger...._Sultan?_... dashed excitedly over to the source of the voice.

" Don't worry. He doesn't hurt humans." The woman assured.

" You sure about that? " Chris called out, but already his nerves were relaxing at the prospect of a tame tiger. _Ouch. _The bump on his head sure wasn't relaxing. Neither was the sore spot on his stomach where Alan had gotten in a swift kick. _Alan. What's gotten into him? He's acting more like Wesker!_ Clearly the man had gone off the deep end. _Why did he attack me like that? I thought he was supposed to be on my side! It didn't make sense. Unless_....the thoughts swirled in his mind like a funnel cloud taking form, _unless Alan was in league with Wesker all along. But if that were true, why did he save us from him earlier? Wesker didn't seem to like that._

" It's alright," The woman coaxed, " You can come out now. Sultan's quite tame, I promise it. He's only been trained to attack and kill those creatures. You're in no danger."

" Um....alright." Jill replied, a hint of worry still present in her voice. She started towards the light, and the woman on the other end lowered the beam of the flashlight to the ground so as not to blind her company. Claire and Chris followed, and soon all three were standing alongside a short black-haired woman at the mouth of the alley. She patted Sultan on the head gently, and the big cat gave a chuff of comfort. The woman smiled at the totally astonished looks she was getting

" Go ahead," She urged, " You can pet him. He'd like that."

Claire was about to crack a joke about _why _he might like that, thought better of it. After all, the tiger _had _saved their lives, and it probably wasn't a brilliant idea to offend the woman controlling him, either.

" Um...okay." _Here goes nothing. _Chris reached out and patted the tiger lightly on the head, feeling Sultan's soft fur beneath his touch.

Sultan made a tiger-grunt and shut his eyes softly, clearly pleased.

" Wow." Chris marveled, scarcely able to believe this was the same creature who had, only moments ago, torn a mutant hunter/licker thing to shreds. " He _is_ tame. He your tiger? "

The woman laughed. She was in a pretty high spirits considering the city she was standing in. " No. He belongs to a close friend of mine, Alex." She extended her hand, " I'm Celia."

Well, no point in being rude. Chris grabbed her hand and gave it a gentle shake. " I'm Chris." He gestured to the others, " And that's my wife Jill, and my sister Claire."

" How sweet! A little family." Celia mewled, prompting her company to suspect that maybe she wasn't quite playing with a full deck.

Assured that the tiger was in fact tame, Jill went over and stroked his fur. " Thank you for saving us, Sultan." She gave the friendly tiger a quick kiss on the forehead.

" Aren't you worried he has a virus? " Chris brought up, " I mean, he bit into that creature there..."

Celia shook her head. " No. Sultan can't get viruses. He's immune. Good thing, too."

" _Immune?! _" Jill gasped. Well, wasn't _that _an interesting concept?

Celia nodded. " That's what I said."

" How? "

" The vaccination, of course." She narrowed her eyes and fixed Jill's amazed gaze with concern. " You...have heard of the vaccination, haven't you? " For the first time something was worrying her.

Now all three members of the gang were very interested.

" Celia? " Chris was unsure how to ask this without sounding like a complete mental-case, " This uh, may sound a little strange, but what year is it? Where are we? And what happened to this city? "

Now all traces of Celia's warm vanished. She gave Chris an odd look, like she couldn't figure out what he was doing out of his hospital bed. " It's 2010." She played the beam of her flashlight over the main street. " This city is a very, very dangerous place when you don't have a gun. Follow me and I'll take you to the hospital where the other survivors are. Once you are safe there we'll worry about answering your questions. Our leader will be delighted to see you."

Celia started down the street, trusting the others to follow. Sultan padded by her side, alert and prepared to attack if the need arose.

" _2010_?! " Chris gasped, wording what everyone was thinking.

Claire shook her head in disbelief, the ghost of a smile tugging at the edges of her lips. " Well how about that? Instead of the past, Angelique sent us to the _future_! "


	20. A Very Violet Reception

_((waves)) Hello everyone! This chapter breaks new ground in the fact that it includes a cameo from Hello Captain's super-cool fic Girls Will Be Violet! =D Violet fans will be thrilled! Even if you um...have no idea whatsoever what I'm talking about, I hope this chapter is as fun to read as it was to write._

I settled for nothing less than the best: I didn't just borrow Violet, half the credit of this chapter must go to my dear friend the Captain, as she wrote **all **of Violet's lines and half the chapter itself! =) This was a joint-effort by us, as will be the rest of the Violet-Cameo chapters.

((bows)) Thank you Captain! You are swell! =)

__

By the way...plugplugplug---if you haven't read Girls Will Be Violet I highly recommend it!---plugplugplug

Oh, and another thing: My character Alan Wesker was chosen to be placed on a website that is a shrine to Resident Evil OCs! Thanks there go to xDeadpan. Visit my bio for a link, and you can learn all about Alan, including the meanings in his name and what inspired me to create him. Plus surprising facts! The site also has the scoop on Violet who appears this chapter, so you can't go wrong.

Onto the fabulous

****

Chapter 20

Blackness. Deep and pure as the darkness which fills a dreamless sleep. This was a friend of the weightlessness which now gripped her; tossing her about gently like a butterfly in a light summer breeze. Gravity had no say here--wherever here was. There was nothing to be seen, nor heard, nor touched or experienced. A void. That was the best way to describe it: a lack of physical sensory as the unlikely traveler made her way across the delicate strings of time.

Light! Sudden and blinding. Gravity reasserted itself, and at last Alexandra was standing upright in the center of a well-lit room. _Wow. That was...something else. _She shook free of the dreamy sensation which still clung to the recesses of her mind and looked around.

The room was not overly large, nor was it small. It was, however, uncomfortably cold, and reeked strongly from a combination of some chemical substances she couldn't quite put her finger on, ? There were no windows. Lining the walls were bleached-white counters just wide enough to accommodate a wide selection of books, flasks, petri dishes, microscopes, Bunsen burners, and a smorgasbord of other scientific paraphernalia. Below these counters, of course, were several drawers and cupboards. A bookshelf stood to one far corner; a large rotund ant farm sat off to the other next to a sink and a wall lined with a bunch of charts displaying numbers, chemical formulas, and scientific equations. One wall boasted a sturdy-looking oak cabinet containing lord-only-knew what. 

It was a lab. That was painfully, painfully obvious. However, Alexandra was far more interested in the female figure sitting at the workbench only a few feet from where she stood. This woman was slumped halfway over the table...her head resting peaceably amongst the army of coffee mugs and research notes which plagued the area. A microscope stood sentinel just inches in front of her face. Her back rose and fell slowly with the rhythm of sleep.

A scientist. If the setting didn't readily give it away, her attire most certainly did. Admittingly, the labcoat which hung about her skinny form was in shambles. Once upon a time it may have been a white-ish color, but now it was more of a grimy yellow riddled with stains and pocketed with several rips and tears to such the extent that, had it it's owner not been breathing, Alexandra may have mistaken her for a zombie. Since the woman's back was turned to her, the only other feature visible to Alexandra's eye was the sea of auburn curls which spilled down chaotically from the back of her head.

Alexandra's mind buzzed with questions. _Where am I? Come to think of it, when am I? And who is that? Well, all these scientific instruments look fairly new, so I must not have gone all that far back in the past. But I need a clue here._

She was aware of Sultan beside her, nudging her knee gently with his furry head. He seemed rather edgy and at ill ease from his trip through space-time. Not that Alexandra blamed him. _Hey! My Sultan is the first ever time-traveling tiger! _Reaching down, she gently stroked a patch of orange fur on his head with just the tips of three fingers. The tiger responded by arching his neck up and mewling gently.

Alexandra shivered in the cold. Whoever ran things around here, heating was not their biggest priority. She felt as if she were standing on top of a giant ice berg at the North Pole. Which she very well could be, for all she knew.

Her heart went out to the scientist napping at the table--she was probably freezing her butt off. _Poor woman._

Logic dictated that Alexandra should try the door while making as little noise as possible and just let the sleeping scientist lye. She really really should. But she felt sorry for this obviously overworked and underpaid young scientist. In the end, her heart, coupled with her natural curiosity, won out. She just had to have a better look. Who knew? Maybe this person could help her.

Quietly, the blonde-haired little girl made her way up to the reddish-haired scientist. She was still kind of hoping not to wake her until she had formulated in her mind exactly what she was going to say. What if the stranger wasn't friendly? Now they were almost face-to-face, and the woman shifted slightly in her sleep.

She wasn't terribly old. Alexandra placed her anywhere between the ages of 18 and 25. As far as looks went, she wasn't pretty, but it would be a false statement to say she was downright ugly or insipid to the eyes. A few disheveled, awkward curls hung carelessly about a pale face whose main highlight was a nose that had apparently been broken before judging from the disharmony with which it was proportioned. Situated along the bridge of this nose were a pair of thick glasses that were in such bad shape their owner had had to fix them with masking tape just to keep them functional. Beneath these, of course, her eyes were sealed shut in what appeared to be a much-needed slumber. All of this was further punctuated by a poor bone structure. The woman was definitely not supermodel material. Yet at the same time she was not so hideously ugly that Alexandra wanted to run off screaming _'My eyes! They burn! Ahhhh!'_

The young Ashford glanced at the papers on the desk and was horrified by the sheer volumes glaring back at her. _What does she do, live in the lab? If anyone ever needed a break..._curious, she leaned over and peered in closer...

Aquamarine eyes snapped open instantly.

Startled, Alexandra stumbled backwards in a rush and nearly tripped over her own feet in the process.

Equally as surprised, the not-_too_-terrible looking scientist jerked her head up in a flash. " I..uh...um...Alex...uh...Dr. Ashford I was just...um..." She whipped around in a whirlwind speed, coming very close to falling off her seat and causing a couple sheets of paper to take the ungracious plunge to an unswept floor. " Oh my fucking bloody god, what the hell is _that?! _" Her now lively eyes were fixed firmly on Sultan.

So much for the serenity of the room.

Alexandra backed off a little more, nervous and unsure of what she should say. More than likely, it was a safe wager that _'Oh nevermind us, we just hopped in here through a magical portal'_ wasn't even going to register on the believable scale. _So what **do** I say?_

" I uh...sorry to have disturbed you." Alexandra said as she patted the tiger cub on the head, " This is Sultan. He's a tiger."

For his part, Sultan just sat still in regal comfort; light reflecting beautifully off his ornate gemstone collar. This was an unfamiliar place for him, but as long as his mistress was by his side he was disinclined to start mewling loudly or draw attention. In fact, this place smelled kind of like home. It put his mind a little more at ease. He was curious as well about the other human in the room; the one who wasn't his mistress.

The scientist bolted upright, rising to her full height. She was tall, awkward, and wearing a _very_ unpromising grimace on her face which looked to be a mixture of both fear and surprise.

" I can bloody well _see _that! But what the hell is it doing here...and, oh, just while we're on the topic, _who the hell are you?! _"

Alexandra shrank back slightly and tried to make herself appear as non-threatening as possible. Being cursed at was nothing she wasn't already used to dealing with on a regular basis from living with her less-than-caring family, but coming from someone else it seemed alien and thus had an intimidating effect.

" I'm Alexandra. I uh...I'll just be going now and let you get back to sleep. I'm so sorry to have woken you." Taking Sultan by the collar, she did another visual scan of the room. Her eyes fell upon the only door. Because of her heightened hearing, Alexandra could make out the monotone buzz of the electrical current ensnared within the locking mechanism.

_Rats_. This was going to be a tough cookie. Especially since the woman scientist was certainly going to be curious as to how a young girl and her pet _tiger_ of all creatures had managed to sneak into what was no doubt a locked room inside of a restricted area unseen and unheard.

The auburn-haired scientist narrowed her eyes suspiciously. " Oh god, not another one." She groaned, sparking Alexandra to wonder if maybe in fact this _wasn't _the first time something like this had ever happened around these parts, " You need a keycard."

" Where would I get a keycard? " Alexandra asked, more than a flicker of worry registering on her aristocratic Ashford features. _She's going to figure it out, **then** what am I going to tell her? She's a scientist, she's not going to subscribe to the idea of time-travel, teleportation, and witches. Aw fudge. I am so royally screwed!_

The bespectacled scientist opened her mouth for a second, then, at a loss for words, she closed it. Genuine bewilderment manifested across her face. " Um...small...child...thing? How did you get _in _here? "

Gulp. The question she'd been dreading. " You know, I was just ah...touring the base and then _click! _What do you know, I accidentally got locked in here." Okay, so maybe her wit wasn't razor-sharp today. Alexandra was a terrible liar. Her voice came out sounding squeaky and unsure. She shifted nervously on her heels, then scratched Sultan behind the ears to ensure he would stay put. She wondered what she was going to do if this woman decided to call security.

The scientist folded her arms across her chest and looked at her; frowning sternly but with a hint of good nature playing about her face, as if this were in fact better than her usual company.

" Yes, very good. So how did you _actually _get in here? " She then began to panic, " You didn't steal my card, did you? Because if I lose that again Alexia will have my fucking head..."

Alexandra's eyes went wide with fear. " _Alexia?! _You don't mean Alexia Ashford do you? " _Oh sweet socks smothered in Tabasco sauce, my **mother** is here? And it doesn't look like she's any friendlier than when I left her..._

Sultan perked his ears up at the familiar name.

" No, I mean Alexia Queen of the Fucking Desert." The scientist muttered, making no effort to disguise the biting sarcasm, " Yes, Alexia. My lovely, sweet-natured, and kind-hearted boss whom I love dearly and would never wish any harm upon at all, oh no." She cleared her throat and shifted her eyes nervously to the cub, then back to Alexandra. " Who _are _you? A relation, I'm guessing? You don't seem to want to shag her, so you definitely get points there kid, but will you fill me in here? "

Alexandra swallowed as per nervous reaction. " No, oh no." She muttered almost silently under her breath. She looked up meaningfully to the tired, obviously overworked employee of her mother. This stranger was a little testy and rude, sure, but given the circumstances Alexandra couldn't blame her. _And Mother's too cheap too pay the heating bills..._that was just ridiculous.

Nobody deserved Alexia for a boss. Nobody.

Here this young woman was, giving her best in her studies, and she probably hadn't had a decent night's sleep in a long time. But a person's best was never enough for Alexandra's ruthless mother. She treated people like machines and never took their personal feelings or well-being into account. Alexandra had seen her literally work people to the point of exhaustion. It was inhumane and uncalled for.

Back at home, Alexandra helped her Mom's employees whenever she could, and sometimes that included telling out-and-out lies on their behalf. This wasn't home. Still, this woman deserved the kindness she was undoubtedly not receiving at this establishment. And a part of her yearned for a friend. How much that would help in this strange time!

_Okay, I'll give it a shot_. " I'm Alexandra Ashford and I..."

" Oh man, this is all I fucking need! " The jittery scientist snagged one of the many half-filled mugs from the table, took a big gulp, then spit it out as it was ice-cold. " Another one. This place is like a fucking kindergarten. So what's your deal then? Torture? War games? Ants? You kids are fucking _weird! _"

_Tell me about it. _Alexandra silently agreed. Aloud she said, " Neither. I mean...okay, this is going to sound weird, but I swear it's true. I'm from...another place, another _time_. I'm Alexia's daughter."

She waited to see how the stranger would respond, mentally kicking herself for forgetting to ask her companion's name. It was, after all, her hope that they could become friends. It would certainly be better than being hog-tied and thrown to security.

The scientist snorted incredulously. She looked away for a second, and Alexandra didn't see her mouthing _'nutjob' _to herself. When she turned to face her again, the youngest Ashford's worst fears were verified. " Yes, of course you are. And Alfred's your dad." She sniggered.

" He is, actually. Have you seen him? "

Of all Alexandra's family, only Alexis was more kind to her than her father. Behind Alexia's back, she often shared lengthy talks and discussions with him, and though his views generally tended to be..._twisted_, and sadistic, at least he would _listen_. Her mother, on the other hand, was likely to slap her or at the very least verbally reprimand her whenever she started talking about alternative ways to gain knowledge without hurting people or animals. Alexia had all the maternal instincts of a rock. At least Alfred _tried_. With each discussion he was starting to sway more and more towards her way of thinking.

It was baby steps, but at least it was steps.

With Alexia, you either shared her opinion or you died. Period. The woman had all the morals of a rattlesnake.

For a moment, the scientist looked utterly horrified. Then she remembered that this was an Ashford. Ashfords were never famous for their mental stability. She decided it would probably be best to just play along. " Um...last time I looked in on him he was torturing some small animals and looking up your 'mum's' skirt...that boy is one creepy ten year old." Her tone softened, " Listen ah...Alexandra...do you need help getting back to them...or...anything? " She was unused to dealing with children and felt like a fish out of water.

Alexandra blinked. " _Ten_ year old?! Oh dear. I uh...that's alright. If I may ask please, what's your name? "

The scientist smiled in spite of herself. " You're awfully polite for an Ashford." She mused before crouching down and offering her hand to Alexandra in an act of sympathy for someone who didn't appear to be very fond of Alexia either, " My name's Violet Snowe. I'm Dr. Ashford's research assistant slash general dogsbody. Glad to make your acquaintance."

_Yes! _Alexandra could not contain her joy, " Pleasure's mine! " She beamed, happy to have made a friend in this foreign place and time, " You're my mother's assistant? That's very capital. What fields do you study? "

Violet grinned, finding a common bond with the little girl. " Well, I'm a microbiologist first and foremost, and virology is really my forte, but I'm also pretty competent in biochemistry, anatomy...actually just about everything. Except physics. I fucking _hate _physics." She wrinkled her nose. " So, are you in possession of any of Alexia's scientific prowess, or are you just a wee bit 'special' like Alfie? And if we can be serious for a moment, how exactly _are_ you related to the gruesome twosome? "

Leaving Sultan and Violet where they were, Alexandra went over and sat on the bench, where she then proceeded to skim over Violet's work with rising interest. _Some of these formulas look familiar..._

" I'm quite adequate in those fields as well. Especially in biochemistry and virology." These papers were quite the page-turners..." What is it you're researching, Doctor? " Alexandra's innate curiosity got the better of her, and for one blessed moment the Hylen was forgotten.

Violet arched an eyebrow and looked mildly impressed. She went over and gestured to the petri dish in front of them. " Well, you're probably going to laugh, because it's slightly abstract, but uh...ant DNA. Alexia wants as much information on it as possible, although she wont say why. I suspect..." She trailed off, eyeing Alexandra suspiciously. Though she found herself warming to her, Alexandra was still an Ashford. Granted, a nice Ashford, but an Ashford just the same. It might be best not to say too much. Just in case. " I uh...I'm sure it's nothing."

Alexandra gazed up and caught Violet's eye. " It's for the T-Veronica virus, isn't it? " Her eyes fell down to her fragile-looking arms where she knew the virus was flowing just beneath the surface: as much a part of her bloodstream as the white blood cells.

" The T-whatwhowherehow? " Violet asked, puzzled. " Veronica? That's the redhead in the paintings that Alexander has the big hard on for, right? So Alexia _is_ making a virus. I thought so..."

_Uh-oh. Bad move, Alexandra, bad move! _" Oh dear, I've said too much." She mewled, worry blossoming over her face.

This wouldn't do. This wouldn't do at all. If there was anything Alexandra knew her mother hated it was employees who knew too much. And thanks to her and her big mouth, Violet Snowe now fell into that category. This was dangerous knowledge for the scientist to possess. In this place and time, it could very easily get the both of them killed. For as much as Violet disbelieved the truth about Alexandra's genealogy and place of origin, a ten year old Alexia would never believe a word of it.

And this time, Veronica wasn't here to protect her. Nor would she have her father who--through his many faults--did actually love her. This was before Ash and Alexis's time as well.

Here she was all alone save a tiger cub and a skeptical scientist. She _really_ didn't want Violet to get killed because of her.

She fingered the black diamond gemstone on her necklace, praying for some of the good luck Veronica had promised it would bring. " I swear I won't tell anyone."

Violet realized the danger too. She backed away slightly, a look of horror dawning on her face. " Oh fuck, she's going to kill me if she...fucking _literally_ too."

Alexandra slid off the bench and faced her. She was about to say that she would make sure Alexia didn't kill her when Violet crouched down one knee so that she was eye-level with her. " Look kid, I would _really_ appreciate that..." Her voice cracked, and Alexandra could see the fear welling within her eyes, " As much as I hate this place, I don't want to leave it in a box, y'know? " She sighed. " But look, now you've started, you might as well tell me what the bloody hell is going on here."

Alexandra tried her best at a smile, which might have worked better if not for the fact that she was just as scared as the person she was trying to comfort. " Don't worry. I would never let anything happen to you. You're the first person I've come across in awhile that didn't treat me like dirt. You deserve the truth. I am from the future. I really _am_ the daughter of Alfred and Alexia. I was sent her by a white witch on a mission to retrieve a piece of a magical staff. It's the only thing that can stop my ancestor Veronica from destroying the world." She looked uncomfortable. " And...you probably think I'm nuts."

" It's not an inaccurate statement." Violet muttered frankly, " Have you been out in the sun too much? Oh no, hang on, we're in the middle of a fucking iceberg...uh...do you have any medication you need to take? " She stood back up.

Alexandra relented a sad sigh. And things had been going so well just a minute ago. Scientists were generally the hardest people in the world to convince when it came to magic.

" I knew you wouldn't believe me. But it's true." _Yes, but how do I **prove** it?_

This was too much for Violet. " You know," She snapped, fear making her a little harsher than she would have liked, " I'm really tired of pandering to sick little aristocrats with nothing better to do than..." She stopped--realizing she was ranting--and calmed down. If Alexandra really wasn't to be trusted, she didn't want her running to Alexia. " I...look, I'm sorry." She gestured to the huge pile of paperwork languishing about the table with a sad sigh, " I've been stuck down here for three days, I'm feeling a little testy. Can you give me a break here? "

_It certainly looks as though **someone **should. _Alexandra thought.

This was ludicrous. Why, if _she_ were running things, she'd let her researchers take as many breaks as they needed. Within reason, of course.

" Alright. Ask me a question there is no possible way I could know the answer to." It worked in the movies.

" Wha? No! This is ridiculous! There is no way on God's green earth you can seriously expect me to believe that you're the incestuous spawn of the Ashford twins sent from the future by a white witch. This joke isn't funny anymore, kid. I've got a lot of work to do and..."

_So much for that. _Alexandra had to hand it to her: Violet was not gullible. It was an admirable trait to be sure, but now it was putting quite the damper on this friendship. True friends had to be honest with one another. Violet was making it clear that she needed visual proof. But what would that be?

Then it came to her. _Ah, of course. My T-Veronica virus. She can't deny what's in front of her own eyes!_

Decided, she sprang up, dashed back to the table, and ran her ice-blues once again over Miss Snowe's work. " You know that research you're doing? That's for the T-Veronica virus. How do I know, you ask? I have the same stuff in my blood. And just to prove that this, like everything else I'm saying is true..." She took in the polished oak cabinet in one corner of the room. It looked very heavy. Much too heavy for an eight year old to lift. Perfect. It would do nicely.

Leaving the bench, she sprinted past Sultan and kneeled down next to it. Thankfully, there was a perfect niche in the bottom design for hands to fit under. _I wonder what she'll think of this? _

Though she was not yet as strong as her mother, she was plenty strong enough to lift the cabinet up to her chest with little difficulty.

" Jesus, Mary, and fucking Joseph! " Violet exclaimed in horror, " But that's not possible! Alexia's work is still in the preliminary stages and...and..."

No sooner had a satisfied Alexandra set the cabinet back down than Violet was there, grabbing her wrist with a sense of urgency. " Let me prick your finger. Please? Let me see what the hell is on your blood."

_Finally_. " I would be delighted. But please take care. You see, my blood is very flammable and if it hits a surface too roughly it explodes into flames. And I would hate for you to get burned."

" I...uh..c'mere." Violet led Alexandra to the workbench and removed a scalpel from her pocket. This she passed quickly through the hot flame of a Bunsen burner to disinfect it. " Ok, just a little scratch, it'll nip for a sec but...oh my goodness this is so exciting! " She gushed, all else forgotten at the prospect of a new scientific advancement.

Alexandra never flinched as the razor-sharp scalpel pricked her finger. An excited Violet lost no time in squeezing the resulting drop of blood onto a clean glass slide. Before she could get it to the microscope, however, the blood burst into flames!

Violet instantly dropped the slide.

This was insane!

Leaping back with a yelp, she studied the shattered glass on the floor for a moment before adjusting her spectacles and babbling excitedly, " Amazing! Bloody hell! The erythrocytes appear to have pyrokinetic properties! How is that even possible? " She regarded Alexandra with complete amazement then pointed to the floor again, so excited her finger was shaking. " D...did that...just happen? " She sunk down on a stool and removed her glasses, covering her face with her hands. With a small groan, she asked, " Does Alexia know about...uh...that? "

Alexandra chuckled good-naturedly. " Alexia's the reason I have it. Not too long from now she injects her completed virus into her bloodstream and fakes her own death. Then Da...I mean, Alfred, puts her in a cryogenetic chamber where she sleeps for fifteen years to stabilize the virus. When she wakes up she has these amazing powers and can..." She made a face, " mutate and shift her shape at will. Well, a few years after that, she got pregnant with me and...I was born with the virus embedded in my DNA. So I'm pretty strong and I heal very rapidly. I can also throw fire if I have something with which to ignite the fluid which I can spray from my wrist." She frowned. " Mother is much stronger than me. She can throw fireballs and everything without any accommodation. She says that someday I will be able to as well."

" This...this is insane." Violet mumbled, " That really is some story and you really can't expect me to believe all that future stuff...but look...the real Alexia, the one that's currently upstairs playing a sweet little game of 'kill the dragonfly' with her brother, is not going to be happy with this...not at all...and if she finds out, she _will _have you killed."

Alexandra nodded sadly. _Yep. That's pretty accurate. _Then the sheer horror of the situation sank in. She didn't want to die! Terrified, she rushed over and hugged Sultan tightly around the neck, as if his very existence could somehow protect her.

" I don't know what to do...I'm...Violet, can you help me? You're all I have. " Her voice came out small and meek; a terrified urgent half-whisper. Her fine Ashford features were marred with abject fear, and...was that the trace of a tear Violet detected in her eye?

Violet rolled her eyes and sighed. _Today is definitely heading down the toilet. _She offered the scared child a small smile. " Yeah, go on then, kid. I wouldn't wish Alexia's wrath on anyone..." She shivered, partly from the cold and partly from trepidation, before kneeling down next to Alexandra; still eying the tiger warily.

She thought about the situation for a moment, wrinkling her nose up and fiddling with her glasses. " Okay, _if_ you can keep your...abilities...under wraps, we can...I know! " Her eyes brightened and she grinned at Alexandra, " I have a cunning plan." She nodded for effect before continuing, " You've got some serious family resemblance going on there, no one can deny that. Maybe we could pass you off as a cousin come to visit? At least then you'd have somewhere safe to stay until we figure things out."

Alexandra's eyes regained their hopeful glean. " Yes! That's an excellent idea! We can say they sent me over here on a surprise visit. All we have to do is say that the people who brought me here already left. They'll just assume it was some careless bumble and miscommunication. Hopefully. How's that sound? "

" If we're careful, we can pull it off. I think Alexia trusts me to a degree, and I'll vouch for you..." Violet shrugged. " She'll be a little irate, but at least she wont have you shot, which is definitely a working start, don'tcha think, kiddo? "

Alexandra nodded, " Yes! Oh yes, please. Thank you. You're such a nice friend." She released her death grip on Sultan and lovingly petted the cat's fluffy fur.

Violet snorted. " Friend? That's a word I haven't heard in a long time. Hmm...not since I last saw Will..." She shook her head, frowning, " Well, I have this slight uh...tendency to get into trouble...so I may not be the best person for the job, but I'll certainly try." She awarded Alexandra a mock salute.

Alexandra saluted back. " Thanks again! And don't feel bad, I do a fair share of getting into trouble too." The faintest red flushes of embarrassment crept across her face.

" Well, a word of advice that I'm sure will stand you in good stead. When encountering football hooligans, it is generally inadvisable to use the word 'cretin' under any circumstances." She winced and stood up before offering her hand to the little Ashford. " C'mon, we can't sit about here all day. You up for some lies, deceit, and general betrayal of your family bloodline? 'Cause it sure sounds more appealing than looking at squished ants under a microscope."

Alexandra smiled. She wouldn't be in this alone. Now she had a friend to help her out. With each passing moment she found herself growing more and more attached to this awkward but well-meaning scientist.

Was she ready? If not now, then never.

Picking up one of her brother Ash's favorite phrases, she replied, " I'm game. Let's go seed the lies! "


	21. Everything You Love Is Lost

**Chapter 21**

__

Chapleton, England, 1508 ( Renaissance )

" Gee James, you know, it was just so beautiful and my birthday's coming up in a few months anyway, I thought maybe it could be an early birthday present from you to me. Yes, now you won't have to get me anything. And we can start a lovely garden with these beets and prunes. Everything else was so high-priced anyway; you'd have to be royalty to afford it."

The garnet ring perched happily on Veronica's right ring finger as she strolled up a hillside towards home. The matter at hand was a serious one. She was practicing on her inevitable little speech to James, and just how she was going to justify spending almost a week's worth of his hard-earned money on a garnet ring that was financially as practical as blowing the amount on a bunch of pretty rocks to set out in the yard. Worse, the only veggies she'd been able to afford afterwards were beets and prunes.

Personally, she could barely stand either.

James liked them, but only on a so-so level. They definitely were not a family favorite. As one of James's popular sayings went, _'They're okay, but I wouldn't slay a dragon for them.'_

Perfect. James was going to _completely _understand.

Veronica's eyes shifted to the little packages of seeds tucked gently among the cloth inside her basket. _Hey honey! Guess what? I brought you beets and prunes! Aren't you proud of me? And I spent so little on myself...nonsense. He's going to mind. _

She was halfway up the hill overlooking the valley, and now she began to panic. _What can I do? What was I thinking?! Maybe I'll hide the ring and tell him someone robbed me. Yes, he'll have to believe that. People get robbed all the time...._

A shift in the wind brought a strange smell, interrupting her thoughts. _What's that? _ It smelled musty, like old boots. _Ew. _The petite redhead wrinkled her nose in disgust. _Must be time to clean out the stable_. _Poor Arthur. I'm always forgetting to do that._

When she reached the top of the hill she froze. Down below, not more than five hundred feet away, stood the Stilling family's home. Just beside it was a large pen where they kept a few chickens and goats along with Arthur, the mule. Beyond that, an ominous shadow looming in the background, was the dreaded Forbidden Woods.

Actually, that was the very reason they'd gotten the land so cheaply. Nobody wanted to live within five miles of the Forbidden Woods.

Save James.

He insisted that such legends as Valerian and a cursed woods were nonsense, just like hanging lonely women for witchcraft.

Veronica didn't consider herself superstitious, but she'd never liked those woods. It always felt like someone or something within was always watching her, no matter what the time of day or night.

Now, looking, looking down on the quiet scene below, she couldn't shake the feeling of _wrongess_. Around this time, James would usually be outside playing in the yard with the kids.

He wasn't.

The front door to the house should be shut.

It wasn't.

Now Veronica was getting worried. She started down the hill at a brisk pace, steps quickening the closer she got to her destination. For all her quirks, one thing Veronica had never been lacking on was speed. She covered the ground between herself and the house in barely any time at all. When at last she reached the ajar door and burst in with the force of a small rocket, she dropped her basket.

If she'd only known ahead of time what awaited inside, she wouldn't have been in such a hurry.

The main room, for the most part, was in shambles. Broken dishes, knicknacks, furniture, and paraphernalia of all sorts lay in ruins on the floor and shelves. It looked like an entire raiding party had decimated the area. A complete mess. A disaster. But that was not the worst of it, not by far.

A few spatters of blood marked the scene of a violent struggle. Following these to their source near the center of the room, Veronica saw there laying amidst all the rubble and debris, the broken, beaten, bloodied bodies of her three children. James was nowhere in sight.

" Oh, my..." That was all she could manage. How could she finish? Words failed her.

They were dead. All of them. Her babies. Her little kids.

Her heart disintegrated before it's next beat. For a moment, the whole world stopped on it's axis.

Run. She should run. She should run far away and leave this house while she still had the chance--Lord only knew what had happened to James--but her heart drove her those few painful steps to the side of her slain children. There, next to the mangled bodies of her twin daughters, Veronica fell to her to knees, forcing herself to look at the graphic scene that was too horrid to be real.

All the color drained from her cheeks. Her delicate mouth hung open slightly, ever so slightly, but no noise could be made to come out.

This couldn't be happening. There had to be some mistake. Things like this couldn't happen to her. She'd already lost her mother, that was the guarantee...the promise that nothing bad would ever happen again. Fate had robbed her of her family once before, why would it give her another just to have this one taken as well? It didn't make sense.

They were all dead....

No. It didn't feel _real_. Veronica was experiencing it all as if from afar, as if she were in a dream world. That's what it felt like: a bad dream. Any moment now she'd wake up, and James would be there, cuddling her and kissing her, telling her everything was going to be alright. Then she'd sit up and they'd both have a good laugh at how ridiculous the nightmare she'd just had was; how it was never going to happen, and how pointless it was to worry.

James. Where was James? Had he let this happen?

No. Of course not.

James had always been a caring father, and a dear husband. He loved his family. He would never let something like this happen. How could she even think that way? He had probably been the first to die. Surely the kids would not be in their present state if he were still alive.

Who had done this? Just as importantly, why? They had never done anything to hurt anyone! Certainly her children hadn't. James was equally as innocent. All he had ever done was help people. Veronica herself was a wiccan, but she harbored no hate in her heart towards her fellow neighbor. She had never used her magics to hurt anyone, even the people whose her opinion of weighed less than sunlight. So what was she paying for?

And while she was at it, exactly what kind of heartless, evil person would kill _children_? Even most criminals would never dream of murdering babies!

" Ver...Veronica? " A muffled voice choked from off to the side.

Veronica recognized it instantly--James!

Snapped out of her stupor, she shot up and dashed frantically around the room like a chicken with it's head cut off, very nearly tripping over almost everything humanly possible, looking for the source. " James? James?! " She couldn't see him! Where was he?

" H...here." His voice was weak, fading.

The bedroom. For a moment she'd almost forgotten they even _had_ one. With a sense of urgency, she dashed in to find the bed collapsed and a very unhappy, very hurt James protruding halfway from under it. His legs and abdomen were both trapped beneath the frame, and there was an insane amount of blood coloring the floor.

Veronica rushed to his aid, and only then did she realize the true magnitude of his injuries. James wasn't hurt just a little, he was hurt a _lot. _Being crushed by the bed was the least of his problems. Veronica counted three huge gashes decorating his body, and that was just the part of him she could see. Sword marks. Nothing else cut like that. The worst of them slashed right through the upper half of his chest, a thick red line gushing blood.

Now all semblance of color was completely gone from Veronica's face, leaving her all pale and ghost-like. That wound was mortal. It was amazing James had made it this long. He would die any minute.

James knew this, too, and he held no illusions of surviving to see the moonlight. There was not a second to lose. " Veronica." He reached up with a feeble hand and gently caressed the smooth skin of his wife's cheek. She seemed so lovely right then, so radiant. He was going to miss her.

God, he was going to miss her.

Veronica kissed his hand tenderly and held it to her face. Already she could feel the warmth slipping away from him. _No! No don't go...don't leave me to face this cruel world alone! I need you! I can't survive without you!_

James struggled for the strength he needed. Many times in life he'd had to say goodbye to people he loved for one reason or another. It always hurt. Things like that never came easy. But this...this goodbye was going to be the hardest. He loved Veronica very dearly. Cruel that he should be taken from her life so suddenly.

" This...barbarians, riders from the east did this. There were...at least a dozen." It was practically a speech for a dying man. The words were painful and sentences took all the strength he could muster just to speak. Already he could feel his heartbeat slowing, the blood in his veins freezing, stiffening, and dying. He gazed up into Veronica's eyes, and she could see the spark within fading.

" Barbarians! " Veronica seethed, her eyes flashing a dangerous shade of red.

James noticed the change, but said nothing. He'd long sensed there was something special about the girl he'd saved that stormy Stratford day that seemed like decades ago. Sure, at times she could be pretty clumsy and forgetful. Pretty _normal. _Veronica was always burning the food, dropping the dishes, and bumping into/breaking things. She'd ended up ruining his laundry on more than one occasion, and---this was a secret he'd take to the grave--her cakes were way too salty.

But underneath all those faults hid a truly amazing woman. Veronica's love seemed to know no bounds. And not just for the family, but for nature, mankind, and all of creation as well. Whenever she wasn't tending to the family, she was helping the wildlife. James had always envied her oneness with nature. Veronica had been so kind to the animals that the birds and squirrels around these parts were almost tame. The finches would even feed out of her hand.

Amazing. That kind of trust was sacred.

Never before had he encountered someone who shone as brightly as his Veronica. She was quick to anger, but also quick to forgive. A little loopy, true. But never in a malicious way. And even if some of her actions suggested otherwise, he believed her to be smarter than most women.

Yet even deeper under all that there was something...different about her. Mysterious. Though she'd denied it numerous times, James couldn't shake the feeling that there was a secret about herself she hadn't been telling. Sometimes, if the lighting was just right, and just as she was turning her head after conversation, he thought he'd catch a glint of something magical sparkling in her eye. But then he'd look and it'd be gone, and Veronica would be left staring at him weirdly and wondering what in the world had gotten into him.

Though she wouldn't say, James strongly suspected this to be reminiscent of her childhood. Perhaps her mother truly _was_ a wiccan. Perhaps Veronica herself still carried a bit of magic. It wasn't beyond the realms of possibility. There were many things in this world than mankind couldn't even begin to fathom, let alone explain.

Rather than fear, this was a thought that filled him with awe. Having things that were unexplained and unknown made him strangely happy. There would always be something new. There would always be things that people just wouldn't be able to fully understand. It didn't change his opinion on things.

Veronica could be a true witch for all he cared; it didn't matter. He loved who he loved. And he more than felt that love in return. Short as their life had been together, it had been happy, and he would die with no regrets.

For this very reason, he'd been holding out. His injuries were painful, and each second he lived felt like an eternity in Hell. Nothing was more appealing right now than the thought of just dying. But Veronica needed to know. She needed to be warned.

" They're..." He coughed up some blood and his hand fell away from Veronica's face. His eyes were glassing over, his brain preparing to shut down. The Reaper hovered nearby, ready to take him. Each moment it was becoming harder and harder to fight back the inevitable death.

" James? " Veronica squeaked, clenching his hand tightly and trying her best to transfer her heat into the rapidly cooling flesh.

James coughed up some more blood, and went limp. For a terrifying instant Veronica feared he was dead. His arm slipped from her hand like a heavy wet noodle.

" James? Please...don't leave me! " Tears spilled from her cheeks; twin rivers of misery.

" Coming back." James' eyes were shut now, and his voice was soft and far away, like a person talking in their sleep.

" Coming back? " Veronica barely cared. Her world was gone. The people she loved were all dead, and there was no coming back from it. What was the point of living anymore? How could she go on when her heart was as dead as her family? Why live in such misery? " Then they can take me too. Without you and the kids, I have no reason to live."

Let the barbarians kill her. She didn't care. A life in constant pain was a life of the damned. Her soul cried for peace, for an end to all this madness.

Was it too much to ask?

She didn't need to be rich. She didn't need to be famous. Hell, she didn't even need to be _coordinated_. All she wanted was to be loved, to share the warmth and joy of a family. In what twisted, sick reality was that a crime deserving of punishment? If she couldn't have that in life, perhaps she could in death.

Yes, she would die here this night, right alongside the bodies of her husband and kids. Life was all just a big cruel joke anyway. Well Veronica Stilling was through being the butt of it! Soon she'd be running through the Elysian fields with her family. _Perhaps I'll see Mother there._

" No." James's simple, sudden reply startled her. She was sure he'd died just a moment ago. But no, the man was more resilient than the wild horses which populated these parts.

" I don't want that. Live...you must live. Don't let them destroy you like this. My life...was good. I have no regrets. The pain you feel won't last...forever. Tomorrow the sun will rise." His speech was getting even quieter now, and Veronica really had to strain hard to catch and make sense of each syllable, " Promise me you won't give up." His heart ached terribly, and these few simple words were spoken with the greatest of difficulty.

Death was already trying to claim him. He couldn't fight it off any longer. Through the haze of pain, approaching hoof-beats. The barbarians were almost upon them. The barbarians...

" I promise." Veronica agreed, unsure why she was taking such an oath that required her to do the very thing she didn't want to do. But it was important to James, so she went along with it.

A faint smile crossed James's lips. " Thank you. I die in peace." And with these last words, he did just that. His chest fell one final, painful time, and Veronica knew the Reaper had at last won.

" _James._" Veronica was beside herself with grief. It was all sinking in. Her heart was effectively destroyed, and probably most her soul along with it. Tears spilled in abundance from her cheeks, soaking the shirt and mixing with the blood of the limp man beneath her. The man whose love she could still feel lingering in the air.

Outside, the harsh beat of hooves drew nearer, and now the noisy banter of the barbarians could be heard--each arguing over whose spoils were greater.

_Barbarians. _Veronica stood and straightened, eyes lighting with a fierce fire. A new passion washed over her, a sensation which, until now, she'd never experienced in full magnitude.

Hate.

She _hated _these lowly, bloodthirsty, heartless dogs! She wanted them dead. She wanted them to die slowly, suffering, ruing the day they murdered her family. Pigs! Fiends! _Do not worry James, I shall avenge you. _The read-haired wiccan silently swore, heading for the back entrance. She was careful to avoid looking at her kids again. Didn't have the stomach for it. _But how?_

This did present a problem. The barbarians were strong, tough men wielding swords and skilled in the ways of battle. She didn't stand a chance against them one-on-one. All she had was her magic. And that wasn't saying much. The worst she'd be able to do was possibly levitate a dagger. Other than that, she might be able to put on a convincing lightshow, but it'd all be just a bluff. Much too risky to take a gamble on.

There! Now she was outside. Sprinting across the yard, her eye caught the stable. Arthur was still in there, snorting loudly and pawing the earth with his hoof. He knew something was amiss. _Perfect._

Veronica reached the building with a speed she'd never guessed she had and was quick to unlatch the door.

" Hey! There is a woman! She must be the wife that was missing last time! " A gritty voice boomed.

Uh-oh. Veronica threw herself over her favorite pet, and she wasn't graceful about it either.

Arthur snorted in surprise. Never before had he been so roughly treated. It wasn't to end there. Now his mistress pulled his mane.

" Go! _Go! _" She commanded urgently. To drive the point home she smacked him in the butt. That was all it took. Arthur dashed out of his stall, trotting across the pasture at a brisk pace.

Had the barbarians noticed?

Against her better instincts, Veronica turned back to see a swarm of angry barbarians riding up on horseback. Their powerful steeds leapt the wooden fence as if it weren't even there. Veronica screamed.

_Why'd I do that? Did I need to see that? Was that good for morale?_

" Where are you off to, Little Miss." One barbarian laughed.

" What is wrong? Ye didn't like our lovely welcoming gifts? " Another jeered.

" Faster! " Veronica screeched, slapping Arthur's rear-end until her hand ached with the effort. She'd never make it. They were too close! Too frighteningly, frighteningly close!

Arthur galloped on, partly from his mistress's command and partly out of natural fear of being chased by a herd of strange horses. There was loud bleating from the goats nearby as the beast of burden plowed through the center of a gathering, sending the animals into flight in every which direction. The furthest reaches of the fence rushed up in Veronica's field of vision. _Oh damn! _Her heart galloped faster than the pursuing horses.

The gate was latched!

She felt like kicking herself.

Of course. They almost always left the back gate latched. It would do no good to have the livestock roaming around the hillside whenever they pleased. Just beyond the fence loomed the tall and oppressing Forbidden Woods. It was these very woods--the very woods she'd feared ever since moving here--that she now sought shelter in. If she could just make it there, she stood some chance of losing her enemies amidst the abundant trees and plants. Call it a deadly game of Hide-And-Seek.

Too bad there was no way a short-legged donkey like Arthur would be able to leap the fence. They were doomed. _Unless..._

Summoning up all of her magical reserves, and gripping Arthur's mane more tightly than the animal would have liked, the terrified wiccan struggled to concentrate. She formed a mental picture of the latch: small, metal device easily manipulated. Now she pictured the latch moving, nudged in the right direction by her magics...yes...now the gate would open...

They were there! Arthur nearly collided with the gate when it suddenly swung open. _Yes! _Veronica cheered silently. She'd done it! When it had counted most she'd been skilled enough to rely on her magic! It was a very satisfactory feeling.

His way now cleared, Arthur galloped towards the woods, some primal instinct driving him there.

The barbarians thundered after them.

Feeling well-pleased with herself, Veronica dared a glance back once more. The enemies had almost reached the gate. Interesting. How sad would it be for them if something...unexpected...happened?

With a triumphant smirk, Veronica swiped a finger through the air. " _Sadej! _" She commanded, using the ancient wiccan word for '_close' _and swiping a finger through the air.

Instantly the gate swung back, striking the lead stallion full in the knees. Both horse and rider crumpled to the ground.

" Hey! How did...the gate was...? " There was much chaos as the remaining barbarians learned why it was not a good idea to follow their leader so closely behind. Men cursed while the horses whinnied and struggled to come to a screeching halt before sliding into their fallen comrades.

A few of the barbarians, the ones farthest to the back, were able to avoid this fate. They charged on--diving around the horse/man pileup and leaping the fence in hot pursuit. But the holdup had cost them precious moments. Both woman and donkey had already slipped into the evil _Forbidden Woods_.

" Whoa! " The men yanked their reigns, bringing their horses to a swift, if not a bit unorthodox, stop.

One guy, a gruff ruffian with a graying dirty beard and long sideburns, turned to his partner. " Ye Forbidden Woods! " He babbled excitedly, obviously nervous, " Lord Valerian tolerates no visitors. Cursed is the man who enters his realm! " He shivered, a sudden chill taking his spine.

" But what about the woman? " Gray Beard's sidekick asked.

The first man shook his head, all but ignoring the shouting and general noises of discomfort relayed by his friends caught up in the accident. " She is as good as dead in there." He chuckled cruelly, amused by the thought that any woman--no matter _how _desperate--would be foolish enough to enter _that_ unholy place. " Forget her. Lord Valerian will deal with her. We have spoils to divide! "

---

The inside of the Forbidden Woods was even more gloomy than Veronica had imagined. Despite the fact that it was a beautiful sunny day, very little sunlight at all penetrated the leafy canopy above. Dark shadows spilled across the forest floor, and an eerie white mist drifted lazily between the ground and the lowest branches of the trees.

A deathly quiet enveloped the wilderness as Arthur stumbled through the foliage. Atop his back, the new widow shivered.

Only a few minutes in and already she was hopelessly, hopelessly lost. The forest was like a clever maze with every direction possessing the uncanny ability to look the like next. Every direction she looked she caught corner-of-the-eye glimpses of strange creatures beating a hasty retreat into the safety of the trees and ferns. Weird, furry squirrel-like things with eyes and ears that were too big. Giant bugs. Once, twice, she thought she caught sight of some hideous abomination that looked like a freakish cross between a lion and a bat.

Fortunately--if the creature wasn't indeed a trick of the eye--it didn't show any interest in attacking.

Not all the animals were spooky or ugly though. A beautiful white dove glowing with an unworldly golden aura swooped overhead from time to time, vanishing just as quickly as it had appeared.

Once she was completely certain the barbarians were not following, Veronica gave the signal for Arthur to stop. " Whoa. Easy boy. We'll rest here for awhile. Not like we have much choice anyway." She patted the donkey gently on the sides of his oversized muzzle in what she hoped was a reassuring gesture.

It was just as well with Arthur. He felt uneasy in the woods, but at the same time his legs were getting tired from all the running he was unaccustomed to doing. After all, his life up until this point had been quite lazy. Sniffing around the ground, he found a few wild ferns with an agreeable taste and helped himself.

Veronica slid off his back and sighed, wondering what on earth she was going to do next. She could never return home again. Scratch that. Even if there wasn't a horde of bloodthirsty barbarians waiting to murder her the second she arrived, there were just too many memories there.

Strong-willed James.

Clownish but enduring Kit.

And, of course, the terrible two--Meg and Ann, her darling babies.

And some butt-ugly barbarians just couldn't _stand _that.

Veronica couldn't understand it. _Why would they want to rob us anyway? Did we really look like we were that well off? Why not rob an important city official or something? _ The memories rushed back at her with the force of a Tsunami and she broke into tears once more, sinking to her knees.

It wasn't fair!

It wasn't right!

People she loved were always dying, and there wasn't anything she could do about it!

Or was there?

A flutter of wings close by alerted her to a curious thrush perched on a slender twig overhead; watching her intently, bobbing it's head this way and that.

Stifling back tears, Veronica stood up. Tilting her head to one side, she studied the animal with growing curiosity. Something about this bird was...different. It seemed more attentive somehow, and the flicker of intelligence in it's eyes made it unlike any other wild thrush Veronica had ever encountered. _Weird._

" Hello there, my little friend of the woods." Veronica greeted with forced cheer. It wasn't easy. Her throat felt like it was full of broken glass, and her words cracked with a barely controlled melancholy. " Have you come to listen to my woes? "

The bird nodded, sending shivers racing up and down the wiccan's spine. She had never been famous for her mental stability, true--in fact many people around town considered the reclusive redhead to be more than just a tad 'off '--but even Veronica was not so far over the edge that she didn't recognize a thrush nodding in response to a question to be odd.

Alarms went off in her head: this was the _Forbidden Woods_, and it was named so for a reason. She should jump back on Arthur right away and get out while she still had the chance.

_And go where?_

The creepy thrush jumped down a few twigs, as if to be closer to this strange young woman who invaded it's territory.

A lump rose in Veronica's throat. In some odd way the prospect of a super-intelligent thrush was even scarier than the barbarians. What to do? Well, she had sparked the question, it would be awfully rude not to tell.

" I...I..." She shivered, biting her lip in a frown, " I went to the faire today and...and when I came back..." she shook her head, collapsing to the ground on her knees, " They were _dead_. My family was dead. Brutally slain by the barbarians."

The thrush offered no response, and Veronica didn't bother to look up at it.

The horrible events of the day were etched in her mind forever. And it didn't matter what happened from here on out; nothing was ever going to change that. Nobody could undo what had been done. Almost by chance, her eyes wandered to her right ring finger where the precious garnet ring shone more brightly than ever before. Piercing crimson, like the evil eye of a demon. It's vibrant glow reminded her of fresh blood. The blood of James and the children...no! Couldn't start thinking about them!

The ring ...the ring was said to belong to Lady Depruét slain by the hand of Lord Valerian, the wicked sorcerer. These were his woods. This was his domain which no mortal dared enter..._But am I a true mortal?_

Veronica couldn't help but wonder. Her magics, though largely unimpressive, were already beyond all her mother had been able to conjure. Ten, twenty years' time, who knew? She may very well end up the most powerful wiccan in Europe. Maybe even the entire world! _Yes, and they say Lord Valerian can control the elements, turn into animals, even cause the strings of time itself to dance and bend to his will. If I had even a fraction of that power I could easily dispatch those horrible barbarians. And I'd be untouchable. Nobody could ever hurt me again!_

Yes! A brilliant plan. Magic was the only weapon she had, the only thing she'd been halfway good at her entire life. Lord Valerian...was there really such a man?

There was only one way to find out.

The fire of determination set in, and Veronica rose from the twigs and dried leaves carpeting the forest floor. _Must be strong...the weak exist only as meat for the beasts. _Swallowing back her tears, Veronica glanced upward to see if the thrush was still watching.

It was. Cocking it's head curiously from side to side, the little brown bird seemed more interested than ever before in the events that were about to unfold.

Satisfied, the distressed wiccan threw up her head and screamed; a loud, piercing shriek ripe with anguish and despair. " Lord Valerian! " Her eyes welled with tears, " If you exist at all, appear before me! " In an act of boldness she balled her ring-bearing hand into a fist and shook it at the sky, watching in awe as the blood-red garnet grew brighter and brighter, " Come to me! " Now the garnet wasn't just glowing, it was _radiating_, " Come before me and reveal yourself, Lord of the Forbidden Woods! "

Without warning, the thrush leapt off it's perch and began beating wing deeper into the mysterious woods. An unsettling silence befell as an eerie cloud of white mist rolled in through the trees. _Gulp. Maybe this wasn't a good idea after all._

The mist puffed up and grew thicker; like the frothy rich cream topping fresh cow's milk. It raced for Veronica's feet, gaining speed and consistency.

There was no point in denying it--Veronica was scared. She backed up into Arthur's side. _Invoking the wrath of Lord Valerian. Not one of my better ideas, not at all. How do I survive being this stupid? Maybe I should tell him to go away, that I didn't really mean it. No, wait, that's lame. Maybe I could..._

She had no time to rethink her decision, however, as the rising mass of white mist exploded into a geyser not more than five feet away.

Veronica screamed.

Arthur was spooked. He reared up on two legs, black eyes wide with fear, and kicked at something his mistress couldn't see.

" Arthur! Wait! We..."

Arthur didn't wait. No amount of coaxing was going to keep him near a creepy fountain of white mist when his instincts screamed _'Run'_! He tore off into the forest, disappearing almost instantly from Veronica's sight and leaving her to stare off in the direction he'd gone.

Suddenly, " You have some nerve summoning me here." A cool, quiet voice proclaimed.

_Yipes! _Heart racing, Veronica spun on her heel to face this new speaker.

Where the mist had gathered a man now stood. Dressed entirely in black with a dark cape hanging about his lanky form, a sword at his knee, powder-white skin, and haunting pale blue eyes, he wasn't exactly how Veronica had pictured someone with the name _Lord Valerian _to look.

What was more was he appeared relatively young...about James's age, perhaps? Thin black lips parted in a sinister smile when she looked his way.

" L...Lord Valerian? "

The man bowed politely for show. " That is correct." He answered, speaking in fluent French. A hard expression overtook his decidedly handsome face. He crossed his arms, taking the stance of an angry father about to discipline a naughty child. " I should kill you where you stand, Veronica Stilling."

Veronica swallowed nervously. What had she been thinking, incurring the wrath of the legendary Lord Valerian? The man was infamous for murdering fair young maidens.

_But not wiccans. _Her mind argued, _Just remember, this guy really appreciates the power. To tremble before him would be a sign of weakness and surely nothing he probably hasn't seen a million times in the past. I have to be brave. No matter what he says, I can't let him think I'm weak. _She scrambled to come up with something witty, something to show she was not just another victim waiting for the slaughter.

" So you know my name." She laughed dryly, her expression as phony as they came. _Oh God, that is not what I should have said!_

Lord Valerian was unmoved. " You waste my time, wiccan. Your kind are no better than the lowly witch--even worse in fact. I already know what ills you and why you have sought me out. But the matters of peasants are such trivial affairs. All who are born die. That your pathetic family was slaughtered by barbarians doesn't faze me. Perhaps you ought to blame yourself. A _true_ witch with _true_ magic would have never allowed that to happen."

" I have true magic! " Veronica threw, extending both palms out into what was hopefully a threatening gesture. She made her eyes glow red, red as garnets. " Perhaps you misjudge me. Lord Valerian. Perhaps my aim is to take these woods! " Sparks of magic licked the tips of her fingers, " Beware my power! It's a really big power. If I chose I could turn you into a rat." She began slashing the air in front of her with her fingers in cat-like fashion.

Lord Valerian actually laughed; a cold, grating sound. " The kitten spitting at the tiger." A flick of his wrist and Veronica crumpled to the ground like a sack of bricks. He began pacing around her, amused. " If you're so powerful then why is it the barbarians were able to murder your family and chase you from your home? They, " this snicker was particularly harsh, " _magic _barbarians? The sons of witches and warlocks? Or perhaps..." his hand shot down and snagged a lock of red. Veronica made a sharp yelp as she was pulled up to eye-level by her hair. " they weren't barbarians at all, but a band of vicious demons? "

Veronica's eyes turned violet, and he released his hold, allowing her, once again, to stand. Doing her best not to show her fear or discomfort, the lesser magic-user straightened.

" Perhaps I didn't feel like saving them. Perhaps I have finally come to realize that love is for the weak. The weak cannot survive in this world." She raised her right hand slowly and stared at it as if looking at something only she could see. Tiny tendrils of green and blue leapt back and forth between the fingers, and she forced a smile. " Only a glamour, true. You are right my lord, I am not as powerful as I previously stated. Your woods are in no danger." _Have to stay calm, have to make him think it's **his** idea._

Lord Valerian snorted. " You take me as a fool? This information is stale." He reached to draw his sword, stopped. That garnet ring...he knew that garnet ring. _Lady Depruét. _That stirred up a whirlwind of emotions and memories.

" That...ring. Where did you get that ring? " A twitch of his finger and the bloodred garnet ring was sitting on _his_ right ring finger rather than Veronica's.

Veronica was impressed. _Wow. Teleportation. Haven't gotten that far yet. _She watched the sorcerer study it, his expression softening, as she played with what to say. How tough was too tough? Answers that came too easily might give off the impression she was weak. " I thought you saw all and knew all."

A flash of white. That was all the young wiccan had time to register before she was laying on the ground, her cheek turning red in the place Lord Valerian's hand had hit.

" Mockery is the surest way to send your soul to Hell! " He spat, enraged, " Now tell me! "

_Alright. That's enough tough-girl talk for now. _" I bought it for one sovereign from a mean old hag at the faire today." Veronica winced, touching her hand to her cheek and rubbing at the spot she'd been struck. _Definitely time to ease off. I keep this up, he really **will **kill me._

" A sovereign?! " Lord Valerian sounded offended, " This ring is worth _way _more than that! "

_Great, _Veronica thought sarcastically, _someone else who agrees with Hag-Tooth. _She pulled herself up, and the evil lord flashed the ring in her face, " Do you know the story behind this ring? "

His tone was calmer now, almost casual.

" They say it was worn by Lady Depruét the day you murdered her in these very woods."

Lord Valerian scowled at the ring. " Lady Depruét, Lady Depruét, what do they know of Lady Depruét? " His voice cracked slightly, and Veronica could sense the pain within him. Obviously there was more to this story than met the eye.

Aha! So the mighty Lord Valerian _did_ have a soft spot after all!

Veronica pinned his gaze. " They say you murdered her." She said softly, as if talking to Kit or her daughters, " That's not true, is it? "

Lord Valerian grunted and looked away. " It's entirely true." Then, catching himself, he turned back to Veronica, " Very daring of you to enter my wood after hearing things like that. I take this to mean the barbarians scared you more than I did? "

The question caught Veronica off-guard. " Yes! I mean no...I mean..." She cleared her throat, mustering up her best talking-to-evil-sorcerers voice, " You are so widely feared I knew they would not follow me here. Truly you are some powerful sorcerer to strike fear into the hearts of so many. I meant you no ill will. And..." she backed away slightly, her nerves getting the better of her, " That's obviously your ring, so you have every right to it...and I..."

Lord Valerian looked up. Veronica was bluffing, he knew. She was just as afraid of him as the others had been. Unlike the others, however, this one had a spunk to her. And her level of power, while laughable, was quite a feat for a mere wiccan. It would be such a shame to let such potential go to waste. He reached out with his senses and probed her emotions.

There was fear there, yes, but also an admirable amount of respect and hope. Barbarians had slighted this young wiccan, and now she was looking for a painful retribution. There was a lot of potential there. He just wasn't going to get many chances if he let this one slip through his fingers. Circumstances had molded her into the perfect subject.

Confidently, the sorcerer inclined his head slightly to the left, a wane smile spreading over his pale face. " You wish to be an apprentice of mine, don't you? "

For a moment, Veronica seemed shocked. She wasn't quite sure if the sorcerer was testing her or not_. He'd probably sense a lie...better play it safe. Besides, it **is **what I want._

" Yes." She kneeled quickly, then rose up again. " If you'll have me, my lord. I would be delighted to follow in your footsteps and become your most faithful companion."

Lord Valerian's pale blue eyes sparked with interest. " Are you prepared to pay the cost? "

" What is the cost? " Veronica's face fell. If it was money in any amount, she didn't have it. Somehow she had a feeling the price was far more sinister though.

Lord Valerian's black lips turned up in a cruel smirk. " Your innocence. Your sanity. Maybe even your soul. Are these terms acceptable to you? " He fingered his sword. He needn't have bothered. Even without a weapon he was more than deadly.

_They'd better be or else you're going to murder me! _Veronica nodded, closed her eyes, and sank to her knees.

" I have already lost my innocence, my lord." She opened her eyes and laughed, " And many have questioned my sanity." She shook her head, " You may have what is left of it. And, if it would help, my soul." Her eyes once again flared red with anger, " _Anything_ just so I can have my revenge. I accept."

Lord Valerian smiled, revealing several pearl-white teeth. " Excellent. Come with me then, Veronica. You have much to learn."


	22. Fire & Brimstone

**_A/N: _**Warning this is an 'R' chapter for very harsh violence and imagery. Yep, Chapter 9 kinda imagery. Either consider yourself warned, or go grab a sandwich to enjoy whilst you read. Feel free to pick out as many typos/missing words as you can, if that's your thing. D

One last thing, fanfiction net is being finicky and won't let me put my usual marks for telepathy, so /'s will be used to denote it until this is fixed.

** Chapter 22**

More than anything, Alfred just wanted it to stop. _Everything_. The pain. The misery. The sheer _helpless_ feeling that came with not being able to do anything...all of it.

Death; yes, that was what he wanted. No more pain. No more guilt. ( Strange, he would have never thought he'd ever regret any of the things he'd done. ) No more worrying about this or that. No more anything. Peace.

Utter oblivion held a great appeal right now. Alfred Ashford was ready for it.

Again and again the Nosferatu beast rained stinging blows across his already beaten, tortured body. Again and again Alexia's brother was unable to help the heartrending shrieks of pure agony that escaped his sore, raw throat. It was useless, he knew. Nobody in the castle could come to their aid. Alexandra had already tried, and nearly lost her life because of it. Certainly Ash could fair no better. That was, if he could muster up the guts to enter the room in the first place. Which Alfred doubted. Sure, his son liked to talk tough, but the boy had a yellow streak a mile wide when real danger was concerned. Just look at the way he had acted around Alan in Africa. Not that Alfred blamed him, but still.

__

Craaaack!

An angry green tentacle snapped through the air before finding it's mark on Alfred's cheek. He cried out as the flesh was stripped away leaving a thin red line two inches long. A minor wound. He'd been lucky...this time.

Still, the pain had long since passed the unbearable stage. You just never, _never _appreciated true suffering until you were tortured to death. Three hours with the monster and there was not an inch of flesh on him that was left unscathed. His clothes hung in ripped, bloody strips from his frail form. Hundreds of cuts now graced his dying body, dripping more blood than he would have ever thought possible. His pale skin was now a patchwork of vicious bruises and welts. Wrists and ankles had turned ghostly white in the places the metal alloy cuffs bit cruelly, strangling his circulation. His face was a disaster. One eye was dripping gore, the other was almost swollen shut in a nasty blue welt. Streams of red flowed over the now various shades of scarlet, black, and blue his face had predominantly taken on.

It hurt. God, it hurt. Every second he lived felt like a century of suffering. Every strained, agonizing breath he drew he prayed would be his last.

And that wasn't even the worst of it.

In the past, Alfred had often wondered what true Hell would be like. It seemed an appropriate thing to worry about: after all the ungodly crimes he had committed, Alfred Ashford knew where he was going when he died. And it wasn't the place heroes roamed. His curious mind had whirred with the questions: was there really a devil? Did he force you into a lava pit? What kinds of company would he meet down there? Were you damned to Hell forever, or did you, after a set amount of time, get a chance to set things right? Did Hell even exist at all, or only in the imagination?

Now, at long last, he knew the answer to at least one of these questions.

Yes.

There _was _a Hell, and he was in it. True Hell was constant, neverending pain. Thanks to Veronica, he was experiencing just that. Thanks to her, death was no longer an option.

It was beyond his worse nightmares. More than once, both Ashford twins had been fatally wounded. Each time these mortal wounds had magically resealed themselves--like it never even happened. Problem was, the pain didn't vanish with the wounds.

Alexia had been the first to learn this harsh lesson. Minutes after Alexandra's visit, the Tentacled Terror had at last managed to rip her arm clean off her body. Alfred would never forget that piercing scream; the scream that contained all the pain, fury, and hatred in the world elicited out in one terrific howl.

She had good reason to be upset. Severed just below the shoulder, her now no-longer-attached arm was still bound by the wrist from the metal cuff hanging on the wall. It was not a pretty picture. Very grisly. Cherry red blood gushed like a fountain, forever tainting everything it came into contact with.

For Alexia, it had been Hell on earth.

Alfred had been sure his sister was going to die, and Alexia herself knew better than to think she was going to live to see retribution on that damned Veronica. Surely she would bleed to death--and in normal circumstances, she would have.

But the sorceress's curse was for the twins to be _tortured_, not killed. At that last possible second, when all the blood had all but drained from Alexia's body and her heart had slowed almost to a halt, the impossible happened.

A mystical green aura had appeared out of nowhere and engulfed the detached arm in a supernatural glow. Then, even as Nosferatu was busy working over her midsection, mangled tissue began to mend. Broken bones re-connected and knitted back together. Torn veins filled with new blood and re-connected with their other halves. Cuts sealed. Bruises vanished without a trace. Everything shifted, changed, and went back to how it should be until Alexia's left arm was once again whole, beautiful, and unblemished. Sadly, the time to rejoice was short-lived. Though the pain at having lost the limb ended when it healed, there was still plenty of torment to go around.

Nosferatu was a tireless worker, and a nasty retributionist. No sooner had the flesh healed than a tentacle struck and--_bam_-- there was a fresh bleeding cut. Now Alexia was starting to notice a pattern:

Get cut to shreds. Receive a fatal wound. Heal. Repeat again. It was a neverending cycle of pain. One which would only stop when Veronica at last took mercy and either killed them outright or healed them completely.

Alexia had to give her credit: for being an air-headed sorceress with less than half the IQ of mashed potatoes, Veronica sure knew how to conjure up a punishment. And she was fair about it too. Interestingly enough, Nosferatu could apparently only wail the stuffing out of only one twin at once.

He'd work on them each one at a time--rending, destroying, dishing out his worst. There was no clock in the room with which to keep track of time, but the pair formerly known as the Gruesome Twosome guessed these sessions to each last close to fifteen minutes. Then, as if answering the ring of some demonic bell only he could hear, the beast shifted away from his current object of dis-affection and resumed work on the other.

Mostly there wasn't time to think about anything other than the pain. But once the blows ceased, it was slightly, just _slightly _more bearable, and Alfred had the chance to reflect. Or, as the case all too often was, to slip off into another time and re-live the past through the eyes of his victims. It was the worst kind of agony he could ever imagine. More than a dozen times worse than the worst he had ever done to any of the people he'd killed. Not only was his body broken, but his spirit as well.

Presently, a razor-tipped tentacle lashed his cheek a final time, eliciting a weak cry of pain. There. That was the closing act. The beast was done with Alfred for the moment.

Now it was Alexia's turn.

The female half of the twins acknowledged this by bowing her head, shutting her eyes tightly, and bracing herself for the inevitable pain. She didn't have long to wait.

A few well-placed _thwacks_ at just the right angles effectively broke her jaw in the first ten seconds. A dry hiss of air escaped her throat, but that was all the once powerful Ashford could muster. Even if that hadn't happened, she no longer had the breath to scream.

Or the strength to test her bonds.

What was the point in trying anyway? Veronica's magic wasn't going to be any weaker now than it had been a half hour ago. Not unless a miracle happened, and Alexia didn't believe in miracles. _I never dreamt it would end this way._

Yes, after a mere three hours of torment, Alexia Ashford--child prodigy, ruthless fiend, and evil mastermind behind the mighty T-Veronica virus--was at last beaten.

The T-Veronica virus had been a brilliant scientific breakthrough, and she'd very nearly succeeded in her goals, but in the end it had been brawn, not brains, that had conquered. If only she'd known.

Alexia may very well be ten times smarter than the ditzy redhead, but it made no difference. Being able to do algebraic equations in her head and efficiently solve complex calculus problems in a speed that would leave most N.A.S.A. employees sick with envy were fantastic feats, but they weren't going to break her bonds, heal her wounds, or make the abomination in front of her vanish.

For Alexia, it was all crystal clear now. Science was good, but magic was better. You didn't have to be a rocket-scientist to twitch your wrist and make anything your heart desired appear in front of you. You just had to be talented. _Extraordinarily_ talented. Such a crushing truth.

And to think all her life she had poured every ounce of her efforts into the darker fields of science and had a big fat zero to show for it. She still hadn't accomplished what she'd set out to do. Umbrella wasn't doing any better now than it had during Alexander's reign. If anything, things had headed even _farther_ down the toilet on that front. The general populace still viewed her magnificent bloodline as a troop of deranged failures, and as if all that _already_ didn't combine to make the biggest steaming cow pie in the history of mankind, a rag-tag band of rebels known as _S.T.A.R.S._ had missed no chance to make monkeys out of her and her entire family at every turn. Heck, she hadn't even been able to avenge her own death yet, an opportunity which had already arose twice since her resurrection.

Veronica, on the other hand was an all-powerful entity who was no longer even mortal. She didn't have to worry about viruses, guns, linear launchers, monsters, or even weapons of mass destruction. Money was also no longer a concern.

Want that island out in the Pacific? No problem! With a flick of her hand she could make all the cash she needed appear right in her fingertips.

No island available? Never worry. Blink and an island appears out of nowhere.

That wasn't just power, that was awesome power. With it Veronica could easily rule the world, and she'd be untouchable, just like a god. Impervious. Invincible.

_No, _Alexia's dazed mind struggled for coherent thought beyond the hellfire pain wracking her body, _not invincible. Someone hurt her. Discord was able to trap her in that tea-cup. She can be hurt. Maybe even killed. Alexandra will come through and convince her to free me._

The fact that she had a twin brother several feet away who was also suffering didn't even register. Right now only one thought gripped her mind, only one image burned in her brain: freedom.

Hurry Alexandra! She cried mentally, purposely letting all the anguish she was feeling slip into those two simple words. Alexandra was a sucker for that kind of thing.

She hated to admit it, but her daughter's pure heart and kindness towards others had served her well and saved her from their ancestor's wrath. Alexandra had always been able to win others over easily. A smile here, a kind word there, and people loved her for life. On a deeper level that not even she herself realized yet, it made Alexia blackly jealous. She'd always viewed love, kindness, tolerance, and everything that most people would define as good and holy as signs of weakness.

Well, Alexandra may be weak, but at least she didn't have Veronica on her ass.

Perhaps these emotions had an upside after all. Perhaps, just perhaps, Alexandra's love for her could save her from the all-powerful sorceress. Idealistic, but Alexia didn't like to give up hope and right now it was their only shot. If sweet and innocent Alexandra couldn't convince her then no-one could.

_Keeeerraaaaack!_

A six-inch razor slashed her throat at the jugular, drawing a bright red line against soft white flesh.

Pain! Alexia's senses were on fire. Warm, sticky blood traveled down her breast. Fiery supernovas exploded in her head as her brain registered the signals and prepared to shut down.

Of course, a fatal injury was not permitted. A flash of effervescent green mist, and the cut re-sealed itself in the blink of an eye. New blood--an exact DNA duplicate of her own in every way--formed to fill the space the shed blood had left. That pain winked out.

But there was more. There would always be more.

----

With a grunt, Alfred turned his head painfully to check on his sister. He instantly wished he hadn't. As usual, his dearest Alexia was getting beat to a bloody pulp. Bad enough that he had to suffer, but seeing his twin in so much pain was a direct stab to the heart that cut deeper than any wounds Nosferatu could inflict.

It hurt seeing her like this.

Head hung low, Alexia endured torrent after torrent of blows, and the rare times the monster missed were getting fewer and farther between.

At first, she had tried to be strong; defiant even. But now that rebelliousness was almost completely gone. The past hour and she'd just hung there listlessly; not moving, not striking out, not taking any action at all. It may just as well have been a rag-doll dangling from those chains. It had been well over half an hour since she had last said a word to Alfred, either mentally or aloud. Mangled, bloody clumps of blonde hair streaked with red hung lifelessly, masking her lowered face.

He couldn't see her expression through the ragged waves of hair, but he wondered if she was still silently fighting, still plotting her revenge.

**_She can't hold out much longer. _**The Voice observed, **_You should offer her a kind word._**

_What good would it do? It won't change anything. _Alfred sighed mentally, wrinkling his nose and flinching at an itch just to the side of his nose he would never be able to scratch, _Besides, I thought for sure you'd say she didn't deserve it._

**_She doesn't. But kindness is loving people more than they deserve. You love her, don't you?_**

_Yes. _Alfred would have been fool to deny it.

**_Then why not tell her? Just hearing those words will do wonders for her spirit. Love is a powerful thing._**

_Love is weak. Power and ambition are the only things that get a person by in this world._

**_Really? _**Rather than flippant or sarcastic, The Voice actually seemed to be giving the matter thought. There was a bit of a delay before it's next words**_, Look at Alexia. High in power and ambition, low in love. Ask yourself, was this a fair trade-off? Did these traits _ever_ really get her ahead? Where is she right now,_** **_and what is happening to her?_**

_You bloody well know the answer! _Alfred roared, fed up with the constant mind games being played by his so-called 'conscience'.

**_And so do you. _**The Voice declared matter-of-factly, **_Without love, power and ambition are meaningless_**. **Even if she did somehow achieve her maya illusions of power and glory, then what? She still wouldn't be happy, and neither would you. True power is healing the soul merely with words and gestures, true ambition is going out of your way so that someone else may...**

_My heart bleeds. _Alfred sneered, unimpressed.

**_It does. _**His unseen tormentor agreed, **_And it is up to you whether you want to mend_** **_it._**

Alfred was about to think of a witty, sarcastic reply when a sudden ball of agony exploded in the pit of his stomach, causing his muscles to twitch and spasm; effectively de-railing his train of thought.

_Argh! Not again!_

The scenery changed, and this time Alfred found himself in a dimly lit underground basement. The red brick walls surrounding him were damp, grimy, and claustrophobic. A foul smell rose up from the bowels of the sewers. Looking down he saw a dirty mud floor drenched with blood and crawling with all sorts of filthy insects. A rat scampered over his bare foot, making his skin crawl.

Pain! Terrible, terrible pain! It never stopped, it never lessened. Not since that guy had came in and....Alfred's gaze shifted to his hands, and what he saw shocked him more than the dawning realization of what was about to happen.

Where hands should be there were only discolored bloody stumps eaten away by both the maggots he could not ward off and infection.

" Aaaaaaaaaahhhhh! " The voice that tore from his throat was not his. Horrified, Alfred bolted for the door. Only to be stopped short by something pulling against his neck. A heavy metal collar. That's right, how could he have forgotten? That horrid collar had been an ever-present foe dating back to his first night of hell down here. It was attached to the wall by a thick iron chain. Strange that he could have forgotten it was there....

Rats squeaked in the far corner. There were always rats. Sometimes they came up and tore at his flesh with those sharp teeth until he stomped on them or crushed them beneath his weight.

Weight? What weight? He was all skin and bones and his ribs showed beneath the tattered remains of a white t-shirt. Once healthy brown skin was now five or six shades too pale.

When had he last eaten? Aside from the rat he had killed yesterday it had to have been at least four days. What moisture he could get he was forced to lick from the walls. His captors certainly didn't concern themselves with such things.

Why wouldn't they let him go? He didn't understand it. He had been thrown down here and had his hands cut off all because of one tiny mistake: Alfred was under the delusion that he had stolen Alexia's favorite doll and then lied about it. Which was completely absurd....

**Alfred?**

Why am I thinking this? _Confusion dominated the moment as two souls struggled to make sense of what was happening._

Alfred, the **real** Alfred, knew all too well what was going on. It always took him a moment to adjust, to untangle his mind from his victim's. This time he was exceptionally early to do so, and now he could feel the other man's mind touching his senses.

He was curious, perhaps a bit afraid, but there was no malice in his thoughts. After all, there was no way he could know just who was sharing his every sensation. The moment was quick-lived.

Waves of agony and despair washed over him, and once again Alfred became his victim.

He was going to die here. It was only a matter of time. Hopefully it would be soon. Hopefully he wouldn't have to suffer another visit from that heartless maniac whose blood ran colder than the Antarctic itself. 

Seconds ticked by into hours. The rats swarmed in, eagerly anticipating his last breath. Once he fell, that would be it. No fair play. Alfred struggled to keep on his feet, but it was no use. Weeks of suffering were taking their toll. At last he sank to his knees, beating futilely with his stump-arms at the tide of furry terrors moving in, red eyes glowing...

The door swung open, letting in a flood of blinding light. Frightened, the rats fled at the approach of another man.

" I've had about enough of your silence. Time for a little fun." The all-too-familiar voice cackled evilly. That could only mean one thing....

Alfred swiveled around with what very well may have been his last reserves of strength to see his former boss leering over him, setting a cast-iron pail down by his side. He couldn't bring himself to see what exactly was in the pail, but there was a damn good chance it wasn't food or medicine.

**Wait a second**....he studied the well-dressed man before him through sore, bloodshot eyes, **that's me!** It was like looking into a mirror! Except, had an actual mirror been at hand, Present Alfred's expression would not have resembled the condescending sneer of his former self. **Oh God.....**

Alfred...no, PAST Alfred...lashed out with his right boot and kicked Present Alfred/the unnamed victim in the stomach. The blow stung, but he didn't really have the strength to cry out. He collapsed all the way to the ground with a soft whimper.

Why was this man doing this? Was this punishment for the crimes he had helped Umbrella commit? The extreme pain was overwhelming now. Present Alfred felt every twinge of it as if it were his own, felt every drop of the misery and despair this still nameless victim was going through....

I'm Tony.

__

**Huh? Can you hear me? Do you know I'm here? **Present Alfred tried before his thoughts once more merged with his victim's and made an answer impossible.

Past Alfred was not as sympathetic. He grabbed a fistful of Tony's hair and yanked the man up with all the tenderness of an enraged silverback gorilla. It was an easy enough feat. Even though his form was lean and thin, he was easily twice the weight of the scrawny black guy he was torturing.

Tony cried out and locked eyes with his tormentor, frightened beyond words by the total lack of empathy in the liquid cerulean pools glaring back at him .

" Where. Is. It." Past Alfred snarled through gritted teeth. It didn't sound like a question so much as the warning growl of a vicious dog. His gaze touched on the maggot-ridden stumps on the ends of the other man's arms, and his lip curled in disgust.

" Like I told you before, I don't know! I never took it! Please! Please Sir Alfred, you have to believe me! "

**I wont though. **Present Alfred once again resurfaced, recalling every event of this incidence in graphic detail.

Past Alfred snorted and turned back to the iron pail he had brought along. " It's hard to believe a liar. You were there, my guard **saw **you! " As Tony/Present Alfred looked on in abject horror, he proceeded to grab the bucket up by the handle and carry it over. A faint sizzling noise could be heard from within, as if the contents were extremely hot. Past Alfred's lips twisted in an sadistic grin. Glacier eyes sparkled with cold glee. " Do you know what an Ashford does to a liar, Mr. Slombers? "

**Yes. **Present Alfred answered miserably, a conclusion that had not yet been reached by Tony, who didn't seem to be able to hear him.

" Wh...what? What are you going to do? Dammit Alfred, I'm not lying! "

There was no bracing himself. If he could, he would have. But this was not his body, and it's owner had been painfully ignorant. All Present Alfred could do was scream along with his victim of long ago as searing coals were flung into his face, burning their way down his cheeks and neck. His bloodcurdling cries were cut short when Past Alfred once again swung the bucket, unleashing another fiery stream right into his open mouth!

Fire! Burning, blazing agony! His mouth was an inferno, every nerve ending screaming with the sensation of pure, unadulterated pain! He struggled to spit the red hot coals out and was rewarded for his effort by the sharp sting of the toe of Past Alfred's boot connecting with his chin. Although the blow cracked his head back roughly against the ground, it was a love-tap in comparison to the coals scorching his body.

He gazed up at his tormentor in a hellish haze of red pain, unable to form any coherent thoughts. Past Alfred giggled like a school-girl and said something snide, but Tony/Present Alfred was beyond hearing. One well-aimed hit to the nose from the heel of the dreaded boot, and the red stars dancing around his head exploded.

"Aiieeeeeeee!! " Alfred opened his eyes and found himself back in the castle room with his sister and the beast. Strange, his mouth still burned even though there was nothing there to scorch it.

Alexia shot him an incredulous look. What are _you_ whining about? Just wait until it's _your_ turn! Daddy Dearest still had not finished with her yet. Her vision swam in a crimson haze, her hair streaked with the same color.

Alfred's reply came in the form of a weak whimper, like a puppy that had been stepped on by mistake. He couldn't hold out anymore. He couldn't be strong, not even for Alexia. It was too much. It was all just too much. The pain, the images, the sensations...the memories. All of it weighed on his chest like a giant blue whale laboring his breath.

__

Tony...

****

And then you found that doll a week later, remember? Right where you yourself had left it. Tony was telling the truth. The Voice was disgusted, **_Bad enough you served as jury, judge, and executioner, but you know what the most sickening part was? You _**liked **it. You took delight in maiming that poor man. Enjoyed hearing his screams. Reveled in his pain and sorrow. Wasn't so fun to be thrust into his shoes, was it? And now here you are, whining like a baby when someone gives you a taste of your own medicine. What's wrong, you can dish it, but you can't take it? You deserve everything Nosferatu can dish and then some. You...**

" Enough! Just enough! " Alfred spat, finally losing it and yelling the words out loud, drawing an odd look from Alexia, " You have no idea what it was like! You didn't even know what was..."

**_Yes I did. _**The Voice cut in solidly,**_ I was there, remember? Like I told you once before, you and I are not separate entities. I know every crime you committed because I committed them too. I wept silently while you massacred countless hundreds. Where you cowered before Alexia, I stood tall and opposed her. I rejoiced when you showed some love and affection towards your daughters. And when Steve Burnside shot us, I did not hate him for what he had done._**

/Alfred, you're talking to yourself again!/ Alexia snorted telepathically. For the moment, Alfred ignored her.

_Steve! _His thoughts turned black with hate, _He deserves to die! He hates me..._

**_Can you blame him? _**The Voice was quick to retort, **_Look at all you have done to him. Locking him up on Rockfort and indirectly causing the_** **_death of his father. Savagely hunting him and Claire down with the intent of killing them both when all they really wanted to do the entire time was escape. You can't blame him for being a little irate about all of that. He had a good reason to open fire on us. If he hadn't killed us we would have killed him._**

_Quit talking like that! There is no 'us' only me!_

/Alfred answer me!/ Alexia was getting rather angry. For a blessed second the Nosferatu beast paused to recharge, and she had a chance to catch her breath. So to speak. She shot an angry glance in her brother's direction, saw him quivering helplessly in his bonds like a worm at the end of a hook. /Alfred!/

**_You speak the truth. _**The Voice continued without paying heed to Alexia's calls, **_I have always been there, however diminished. I am every second thought you have ever had about doing something you knew was wrong. I am not merely part of you, I _**am **_you. Continue down this path and you won't like the end result._**

Alfred laughed nervously, and Alexia wanted to throttle him, _That so? And how might you know that, you my _future_ self? _He returned snidely. The answer startled him.

**_Yes and no._**

_Which is it?_

**_Both._**

_Absurd! _Alfred had never been so confused in his life. At least the insults he understood, but now The Voice was talking complete nonsense!

Heavy footsteps pounded the floor as Nosferatu clambered back over for Alfred's dose, angry tentacles lashing the air in a renewed frenzy. Thick, ugly purple veins throbbed in the creature's chest, pumping life fluid to an over-sized, over-exposed heart. The sickly green flesh was just as disturbing as before: Alfred had never really gotten used to seeing it, even after all these years. Dark blindfold still in place, the Alexander-beast paused briefly to roar; warped and decayed teeth fully visible along the mottled scar-tissue of his diseased gums.

" I hope he eviscerates you! " Alexia hissed poisonously, her eyes taking on a savage red light for the most fleeting of moments.

Alfred screamed, and that was all he had time to do before the behemoth was upon him, laying open skin and bone alike with those wicked razors.

_If you're me, why don't you help us! _Alfred shrieked inside, praying for once this was not one of those instances where The Voice went all silent for awhile.

**_You are perfectly capable of helping yourself._**

The nerve! That was not at all what Alfred wanted to hear. Curved razors slashed his forehead, adding to his already impressive collection of cuts and trailing a raw, gruesome mess. He ducked his head to shield his tender face, eyes, and nose, even though he knew the motion was futile and the pain would never ease. _Help me! I have no other choice!_

Alexia wasn't on his side. The greatest pain in his entire existence and she didn't even care. It was a sharp dagger twisting in his heart, gutting him from the inside out. His Alexia....it was too wretched to be true.

Perhaps in the end he stood alone after all. Or had he ever really _not_ been alone from the start? A disturbing question.

The Voice again spoke up, firm and unwavering in his head. It's words held no comfort, but they did hold a spark of hope: **_There is always a choice._**


	23. Dark Stirrings

__

**Chapter 23**

Wow. That's quite a castle. Wesker thought as he eyed the structure over from his rocky vantage point atop a high ridge half a mile away. Indeed, Veronica's fortress could not be mistaken for anything else. Large-stone and gray, it was _huge_; easily towering over many of the old castles in the English countryside. There were several towers jutting up like proud sentinels into the now beautiful late morning sky. Each of these towers was trimmed with sloping black shingles and hordes of angry gargoyles and dragons standing watch. The stone golems lined every ridge and outcropping of the building in abundance.

Veronica seemed to have a thing for dragons. They were carved into the stonework at every available crease; Norse dragons, Chinese dragons, fierce dragons, dragons with their mouths open in proud display of their teeth and savagery, and calmer, more relaxed dragons with their snouts closed and wings folded--merely keeping a wary watch over all that transpired below.

Most of the statues were of a glossy black onyx, but a few had more fiery, angry colors. Even from this distance, Wesker swore he could make out the fierce red eyes designed to scare all would-be intruders away.

The castle itself, apart from rivaling fairy-tale castles in sheer size and elegance, was very craftily designed and didn't seem to be made by the hands of mortals. Even from this far a distance, Wesker could see that the edges were far too smooth and polished, the handiwork way too detailed to have come from any 17th century craftsman's tools. Olde English style flags emblazoned with fearsome black and gold dragons fluttered softly in the breeze. The entire perimeter surrounding the gorgeous building was encompassed by a threatening black steel fence at least ten feet high and tipped with razor points.

Wesker took this in with a slight look of awe on his normally unreadable features. He had to admit, it was impressive. _Very _impressive. Very fairy-tale esque, and yet there it was, looming in the distance like a shiny treasure calling his name.

Absently, the ex S.T.A.R.S. captain leapt off his perch, fell three stories, and landed unscathed on his feet near a surprised lizard. The frightened reptile scurried off into the nearest rock crevice, and Wesker paid it no heed. He was much more interested in the glorious Ashford abode and how exactly he was going to go about this.

The fence would be easy enough to leap, but what awaited on the other side? Would Veronica have some hideous monster waiting just beyond those bars? Judging from the outward appearance of the place, it was a safe bet that the sorceress liked her privacy.

Wesker inclined his head slightly to the left, surveying the scene at a slightly different angle. There weren't many trees or bushes near the castle or fence. He made a mental note of possible hiding places on the off-chance that the need would arise before zipping off towards the front gates.

Like it or not, Veronica was about to get a visitor.

--------

Spade studied her new surroundings with rising interest. From what she could tell, she was in a warehouse storeroom. Throngs of chemicals, books, flasks, beakers, boxes, crates, and all that scientific mumbo-jumbo lined the cold metal walls and filled the many shelves and semi-open cabinets populating the vicinity. It was very dark in the room--almost too dark to see, in fact--and Spade had to wait a few minutes for her eyes to adjust to the lack of light before she dared brave that first move.

_Smells funny. Like a science lab. _She wrinkled her nose in distaste at the unpleasant chemical smell lingering in the air. _Where am I anyway? _That question would have been easier to answer if there had been any obvious clues nearby.

This could be _any_ science storeroom _anywhere_. It could even be Umbrella! As for the date, that was another matter. Since everything looked fairly recent, and there were no dinosaurs or saber-toothed tigers roaming about, it was a fairly safe assumption she hadn't gone all that far back in the past.

_Or future._

Angelique hadn't covered that base, but was it possible for one of the Hylen pieces to be hidden in the future? She could very well be in the year 2026 for all she knew. Wouldn't _that _be something?

Well, she wasn't making any progress just standing here in the center of some unknown room with the lights out. Drawing her combat knife from the sheath in her boot, she crept forward slowly, cautiously, testing her environment for any hint of danger, mimicking her father's stealthy motion.

It was one of the first lessons Wesker had taught her, in fact. You could never be too careful. Just because the water was calm didn't mean there weren't crocodiles lurking beneath. In case of an emergency, she had a back-up beretta with a clip of fifteen bullets. She'd wanted a magnum, of course, but for some reason Daddy still refused to let her carry one.

This was irksome, but the way Spade figured, her father was still probably not over the whole Alan-turning-on-him episode, so he was being extra careful this time around. All she had to do was prove herself to him and he'd let her have the heavy artillery. Maybe even the T-2 virus!

Her thoughts wandered back to the beretta. _Damn. Probably should have brought more bullets._ Certainly would make her feel safer.

_Aha. _There was a door dead-ahead. It was metal and heavy looking. Which suggested this was probably an important room. You didn't barricade a toilet.

The green-eyed teenager snuck over to it and pressed an ear against the cold alloy. There were faint vibrations on the other side; like people waling from far off, and nothing more. _Where **am** I?!_

Wouldn't it suck to be in a restricted-access room of some secret government base? Umbrella wasn't very benevolent towards strangers prowling around the off-limits areas of their facilities either. It might be dangerous.

Spade sighed so softly it would have barely been audible to a dog's sensitive hearing. It seemed wrong that other people had gotten partners for their portals and here she was stuck going it solo.

It wasn't like she even _wanted_ to go on this hair-brained mission anyway. No one had asked her. No, that had been Angelique's decree. Spade Wesker had gotten no choice in the matter. Where was the justice in that?

She turned her wrist and played with the weapon she grasped, drawing delicate fingers over sharp metal just gingerly enough not to draw blood. Getting thrown someplace she did not want to be was not sitting well with the leather-clad Wesker girl.

The Redfields, from her observations, were nothing but a bunch of whiny losers. She was starting to agree with her father there. Tons of people died every day...many of them kids Crystal's age...and they didn't so much as bat an eyelid, yet when it happened to the holy _Redfield _familyeveryone acted like it was just the biggest tragedy ever.

_Little brat probably had it coming. So whiny and clingy. Dad was doing them a favor killing her. One less **baby** to watch out for._

The blade was pleasantly sharp. A sudden sharp prick of pain, and she looked down to see a fresh red line appear over the pink flesh of one digit. Instinctively, she drew the finger to her mouth, licked the blood off it.

At first Spade had been merely apathetic towards the youngest Redfield's death, but the more she thought about it, the more she was glad her dad had finally done one in. True, part of it was that she had always hated little kids and couldn't stand to be around them. They were always so clingy, so dependant. Everything was 'Momma' this and 'Dadda' that, and to top that off they couldn't run if their lives depended on it. Always underfoot, whiny, messy, distracting, and asking endlessly stupid questions. It was just so...bothersome.

All young children should be shipped off to some island until they were maybe 13. Then the ones that had survived would be worthy enough to be adults. Yes, that was a big part of it. But there was more to it than a simple distaste for children.

Perhaps the biggest reason for Spade's ill feelings had to do with her big brother Alan. He had looked so sad and angry about the whole thing. Like he was ready to avenge Crystal's death by taking out _their own father_.

It hurt. It hurt that Alan thought more about his 'new' little family than he did his biological whom he'd grown up with. Her father was right: Alan may just as well be a Redfield now. He sure liked to act like one.

The more she thought about it, the more bitter she became_. Five years. Five years and Mother and I may as well not exist. Then Mom dies, and all I have left is Dad and Alan. You'd think he'd be more supportive of me. But no, Alan doesn't want to be with his_ **_true_** _family. He'd rather settle in with Team Red-White-And-Blue and make googly eyes at that lame excuse for an Ashford. He'd do anything for them, even down to killing his own family. I can't believe he cares about them **that**_ _much, and I'm like the leftover spinach from yesterday's dinner. Yeah, you go Alexis. It must be nice to have my brother actually **care**_ _about you when he was perfectly willing to leave my ass with Dad, especially since Dad is such a 'bad guy'. Hmphf. He's been a lot nicer to me than Alan._

Her finger was bleeding more now, and she stuck it in her mouth; tasted the salty-copper tang of her own life fluid.

What was she looking for again?

Right.

The Hylen.

To stop big bad Veronica from attaining her 'evil' goal. But was it really such a terrible thing? Good....evil...they were just words people used to express their personal _opinions_ on any given subject. Just because say, Angelique, thought that what Veronica was doing was evil didn't make it so. And the way things were looking, the S.T.A.R.S. gang had a snowball's chance in Hell of fighting someone as powerful as the Ashfords' mighty ancestor.

As her dad would put it, it was time to chose teams.

Find a piece of the Hylen.

Okay, suppose she found it and then turned it over to Veronica? The sorceress was sure to be pleased. Maybe even pleased enough to grant her and her father certain privileges in her new world. Wesker would undoubtedly be proud, and, hey...he might even give her the T-2 virus for doing such a sneaky, self-beneficial act!

Who cared about the others; the world was a dog-eat-dog jungle where only the strongest survived. As for Alan...well...he could take care of himself. She still cared about him, but he was on the losing side of this war. Most of the world sucked anyway; Veronica couldn't do any worse than the world's current leaders.

A brilliant plan?

Oh yes, very much so.

_Yes, now all I have to do is **find **the stupid thing. _Easier said than done. After one last visual scan around the room to make sure it was devoid of all things fitting the Hylen's description, Spade tried the door. Much to her relief, it came open without a fuss.

Now she was entering a brightly-lit hallway lined on either side with a multitude of professional-looking doors. The white-tile floor was so clean that she could see her reflection in the gloss. Thankfully, no one was about.

__

It was a good thing, too. Here she was in a place she wasn't supposed to be with a wicked-sharp combat knife in full view. Not the wisest move. Carefully, she slid the weapon back into it's hidden boot sheath and silently prayed she wouldn't have to use it anytime soon. The complex looked a lot like a science base, and the last thing she wanted to do was give people a reason to attack her.

She sped by the doors, briefly stealing a glance into each window she passed by. Yep. Science labs. Very _new _science labs. Then she spotted the all-too-familiar red and white Umbrella insignia rendered carefully on some of the bottles and walls. An Umbrella base. _Aren't I lucky?_

This was not a good thing. Umbrella wasn't famous for it's hospitality. In fact, she was just as likely to be killed poking around here as in Area 51. Worse, she hadn't the faintest idea where to find one of the Hylen pieces. A lab, perchance?

An unexpected chill tingled her spine, and she suddenly felt watched. Freezing in her tracks, she swiveled her head to all sides, her specially-trained eyes taking in every crevice.

_There._

A security camera nestled comfortable in the upper right-hand corner of the far wall. There was nothing comfortable, however, about the way the lens was focused _right on her_. _Uh-oh._

Who was watching the feed? Did it even matter?

Panicked, Spade launched herself forward, quickening her stride with each step. She had no clear plan in mind, all she could think about at the moment was just how much she wanted out of that thing's sight.

__

Fwoosh!

A door flew open in front of her, and the neatly-fashioned girl nearly collided with the man who stepped out carrying a clipboard full of papers.

" Gah! " It was a mutual surprise.

The man quickly closed the door behind him and turned to regard Spade with startled cadet-blue almost gray eyes. He wasn't old--early to mid-thirties, perhaps. A white labcoat with tan dress-pants and the traditional black shoes made up his attire. His hair could be best described as short, wispy, and blond.

It took Spade a full moment to recognize him, and in case there were any doubts at all lingering in the back of her mind, his nametag provided all the evidence she needed.

__

" _Birkin?! _"

---------

Of all places, of all times, why Rockfort? Why now? I've never been to this place in my entire life. This is parboiled zombie vomit. Even smells like it. Alexis wasn't exactly feeling ecstatic. Veronica's hex was working beautifully. As far as time-travel went, this would not have been her first choice.

The place stank to high heaven. Not only that, but she was dressed lightly and it was nippy out. The rain had subsided to a fine light drizzle now, leaving the damp earth blanketed in a cool wispy fog. Which was going to absolutely work wonders for any zombies and zombie-dogs hiding in the area_. And, unlike my mother, I can get infected and die. _ _Well, at least I have my health...._in full defiance, her arm throbbed, causing her to flinch in pain, ..._mostly. Okay, have to come to grips here. What do I know about Rockfort Island? Hmmm...not much. Steve and Claire both agree that it was a very bad place to be, and my father was running around being his usual less-than-sane self too..._she sighed, _perfect. If I met him in this time looking like **this**, he'd think I was Alexia for sure. In fact, a million bucks says that's going to be the general consensus around here. _Strong family resemblance was definitely not doing her any favors.

Ever since the Steve incident--and that had _not_ worked to plan--Alexis had spent the last half hour or so just wandering around aimlessly trying to get a clue where everything was. A lay of the land would certainly come in handy if she found herself being chased by some fearsome bio-weapon. Hopefully she wouldn't have to deal with that anytime soon.

The Hylen had to be somewhere on this island. But where? That's where the details got murky. Angelique didn't know and Veronica certainly wasn't going to be of any help.

Pressing forward, the shivering blonde opened the next gate. With any luck this area would be better than the last...nope. Now she was in a small graveyard with narrow paths cut neatly among the grimy headstones. High brick-walls bearing rows of barbed wire at the top surrounded the entire perimeter. A string of dead zombies cluttered the path--bleeding from multiple gunshots.

Alexis wasn't surprised. During the time she'd been here she'd heard gunshots being fired off at random intervals. Claire and Steve making their way through the area. Since she didn't have any weapons herself, they could just go at it. Not like they were going to die or anything.

Alexis's fate was less certain.

The zombies laying in front appeared to be dead, but only an idiot would take that for granted. She stepped over them carefully, avoiding too much eye-contact with the grisly details and instead focusing her attention on the headstones. None of them looked all that old, but they were in such bad repair that half the names on them didn't even come close to being legible. Many were riddled with cracks and chips, and the ones that weren't were covered in a thick coat of green moss. She felt a wave of sorrow for the people buried here. Odds were ten to one they didn't deserve whatever fate had befell them.

A sudden flash of movement!

The Ashford jerked back instantly. Directly in front of her, a gray-skinned virus-carrier she'd been certain was down for the count clattered it's teeth. No other part of it's body moved, just the teeth.

Were zombies supposed to do that?

_Yuck. _Alexis's light red lips curled back in disgust, and she was forced to hold her breath. Mr. Chatter-box zombie's chest and face held more bullets than a semi-automatic, and he was in that ripe stage of decay. Grimacing in disgust, she gave that one a wide berth. Ahead was a wrecked truck protruding halfway through the wall and dangling some sparking wires.

Well well, _someone_ was a terrible driver_. Or maybe not so much a terrible driver as a person under the influence of the T-virus. Sad. He wasn't the one to blame for the crimes committed on this island. Poor sap probably didn't even know what was going on until it was too late. There are times---like now---when being an Ashford sucks. Why am I going this way?_

She found herself at a loss to explain why she was heading down a spooky flight of stone steps. All things considered, it didn't seem like the brightest thing to do. What if there were more zombies lurking down there? She could be walking straight into disaster!

Down the steps extended a long, narrow hallway that twisted in a bend. It was too dark to make out anything beyond that. Alexis froze. Standing perfectly still, she strained every muscles in her ears to listen. There was a lot of dripping going on. Apparently the rain clouds weren't the only thing that leaked around here. Sounded like it was coming from the piping. Which was really quite inexcusable. _What, Dad has all this money and he can't even afford to fix the plumbing? _ She sighed and shook her head. _Cheapskate._

Aside from the leaky pipes, the hall was quite enough to hear a pin drop. It took a moment, but after she was dead certain she heard no shuffling about, Alexis decided to continue.

There might be weapons in the next room. Not that she would ever be able to see them in the pitch blackness.

Fishing around in the generous pockets of her shorts, she withdrew the lighter she'd came across on the ground earlier. Amazingly, it had still worked.

__

Voila!

A quick spark, and a tiny flame blazed to life. Alexis had to smile as she held the flickering flame out in front of her, bathing the gray stone walls in a weak, iridescent firelight that constantly shifted with the shadows. It sure paid to be resourceful. Feeling well pleased with herself at having had the foresight to snatch the item up, she continued down the narrow passage and around the bend.

Just as she'd predicted, there were no zombies or cerberuses waiting to attack her. There were, however several dripping pipes. At the end of the hall was a door, and sitting by it on a stand in the most unusual of places was an old-fashioned typewriter of all things.

Alexis met the odd sight with raised eyebrows. This was absurd! _What the...who puts a typewriter in the **hall**_? _My oh my, Dad really did crack up! _ Approaching softly, she hovered the lighter over the ancient relic of the pre-computer days, bathing the old machine in a soft glow. It appeared to still be in commission. There was even a brand new ink ribbon sitting out next to it.

Frightening. On some level, more frightening than the zombies. Zombies, at least, she was used to. Typewriters in strange new places she was not. The hallway was so narrow....

_I can't believe this. This is nuts. A person can hardly get in the door. What's it...oh, **I **know! _A faint smile split her face, _Maybe this is so I can save my progress. Then if I die I can magicallycome back to life at this point like it never happened. _She thought sarcastically, although she was forced to admit the though held some appeal, _This is too much like 'President Evil'. What's next, the mad politics?_

It brought back warm memories. 

At least three or four times a week--a lot of times more if they could get away with it--Seth and Crystal came to visit Alexis and Alan at their house and stayed until well after dark. Alexis supposed that was because their parents were always too busy for them. Either that or they just got bored. Whatever the reason, during these visits President Evil had quickly became a popular game. Crystal had been too young for it, but Seth had been totally fascinated with it. To the point where he and 'uncle' ( Alexis always thought it was cute whenever he called him that. ) Alan spent hours on end playing.

Seth wasn't a particularly skilled player. His character was constantly dying and rejuvenating at some magical typewriter point. The kid was hopeless when it came to puzzles. More than once Alan had taken over for him, only to curse at the screen and throw the controller to the floor an hour later when he _still_ hadn't gotten the blasted things right.

Alexis recalled one particularly frustrating scenario that had to do with--deep breath--finding the Washington family crest, only to take it clear across the game to the area with the door that needed it, only to find you _still_ couldn't get in the room you wanted without George's wooden teeth--or was that plastic eye? Hard to keep all the off-the-wall paraphernalia straight--and all along the way you had to waste what precious ammo and health you had only to get into a room that turned out to be a deadly gas trap, so you had to _quickly _maneuver your character to turn a statue the right way, grab a sword and stick it in a big metal thingie, the result of which was that a mad politic jumped out at you and bit you at least a dozen times before you could kill him, and what should you find laying in the chamber _with_ the politic?

Surprise surprise, the piano roll you needed waaaaaay back over at the other building on the other side of the bloody map! It was mind-boggling. It made no sense, _no sense at all _for anyone to want to hide their piano roll in a giant iron-maiden type chamber thingie that you had to go through all that red tape to get to. And once you finally got back to where you needed to be with the roll, it was to discover that the piano in fact opened up a secret compartment to a giant blue....thingamabob. And that thingamabob was but half of what you needed to get into a place that no sane person would ever, ever want to be with that crazy Franklin Pearce running around.

__

Ah, the logic of a video game. Despite the gloominess of her very much real-life surroundings, Alexis couldn't help but to crack a small smile. _That Franklin Pearce was something else. In comparison, Dad is...mild. Hm. I should save up lots of ammo before I get to that part and...and why am I thinking about this now of all times? _It was all so ridiculous! She had to suppress the urge to burst into a fit of giggles, _Man, being inbred really is bad for your health. Ah! No! No Alexis! Watch out, some of that Ashford insanity it starting rub off on **you**! Ack. _ Shaking out of it, the more mild member of the Ashford family turned her attention once again to the thin metal door standing between her and god-knew-where. Something told her she should go inside...call it a gut feeling.

Bracing herself for the unexpected, a wary Alexis opened the door and stepped into a small room lit only by her lighter and the soft glow of another, solitary lighter, set out on a heavy wooden desk. The gentle light of the flames played across a dark-skinned man also present at the desk; half-sitting and half-slumped in the chair.

He had had his head down, but at the sound of his turf being invaded he jerked upright at once; a sheer, unbridled panic taking his face, " What...who's there? " He sputtered nervously, sparkling dark eyes alive with fear. He snatched his own personal lighter with one hand while his other dove for his side where he probably kept a weapon.

" Don't shoot! I'm not a zombie! "

The man breathed a quick sigh of relief and relaxed his gun-hand. The lighting was not perfect, but now Alexis could see that he was in fact Hispanic with deeply tanned skin and short, jet black hair a bit damp in front with perspiration. He by no means fit into the drop-dead-gorgeous category, but he wasn't homely either. A gory slash decorated his chest, and his right arm was caked with dried blood. Rough and ragged, he didn't look--or smell--like he'd had a shower in days.

" _Another _survivor? " The man whom Alexis had yet to identify squinted at her suspiciously through haggard, bloodshot eyes. He looked ready to fall asleep where he stood. Clearly he hadn't been expecting company.

But why was he sitting all alone in a dark room? Shouldn't he be out trying to make a break for it? Alexis's mind fogged with questions. There was something not quite right with this picture.

Hispanic Guy--for that was the mental tag Alexis had given him--shook his head in genuine disbelief. The girl before him....he'd recognize those features anywhere. The soft, creamy skin, the perfectly figured body. Delicate rosebud lips. Golden waves of hair. Glittering blue eyes.

" Well I'll be damned." He mused aloud, cracking a wane smile in spite of himself, " There really _is _an Alexia Ashford." The undertone to his words carried a genuine note of wonder and surprise.

_Why not? Here we go again. _Alexis sighed inwardly at being mistaken for her mother yet again in the course of her relatively short life. She shook her head firmly. " No. I'm not Alexia. I'm..."

But Hispanic Guy wasn't listening. He suddenly lurched forward, banging his broad white tee-shirt clad chest sharply against the edge of the desk and clutching his stomach with his bad arm, which only made it hurt all the more.

" Oomphf! " He squeezed his eyes shut tightly, clenched his teeth, and twisted his face into a sour expression, rocking with the unexpected pain.

" Are you okay? " Alexis worried, moving in closer. Setting her own lighter on the desk, she grabbed his flailing arm and helped him steady his. Beyond that, she was unsure what else to do.

Hispanic Guy was not in good shape. Not at all. Her eyes flitted over his body, assessing the damage. A big gash here. Lots of blood there. Cuts. Bruises. A raw arm.

The wounds were serious, but if they were treated in time it probably wouldn't be anything life-threatening.

__

If they were treated in time.

On a prison island where ninety-five percent of the population were zombies, however, Alexis was sad to admit that his prognosis was looking pretty grim.

" Back! Just...back! " Hispanic Guy ordered sternly.

Alexis drew back with a start, giving him space. _Ok ok, touchyyyyy. _" I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you." She said in cool, calming tones.

The man shook his head, still fending off waves of pain. It was now that his visitor noticed the empty jar of hemostat medicine lying on it's side on the far edge of the table.

Hemostat. A medicine used to stop heavy bleeding.

There was no doubt about it: if this guy didn't get to the proper facilities soon he was a goner.

" You were just trying to help? " He lifted his chin, his features suddenly warmed by some invisible glow. As if her words had spoken straight to his heart. He actually managed a weak chuckle, dulled only slightly by his discomfort. " Wonders never cease! " Sitting his lighter next to Alexis's, his eyes never wandered from the kind young woman who had set foot into his abode. There was a certain sparkle in those dark brown eyes as he continued, " I've been abused by Ashfords for so long I never thought I'd trust one again. But here you are; all wet and soggy, and just as vulnerable as anyone else in this hellhole. And we have your brother to thank for it all."

" But I'm not...."

" Don't bother trying to deny it," Hispanic Guy went on, his tone not unfriendly, " There is no _way_ you cannot be Alexia Ashford. The resemblance is too striking. Now I don't know what goes on behind closed doors between you and Alfred, but I've already seen enough to know you're worlds better than him. I can't blame you for not wanting to admit you're related, but it's okay here. We're just about the only ones alive on this island anyway." His eyes drifted fondly to the lighter, and he found himself thinking of Claire and how she'd been kind enough to not only bring him back medicine when he'd freed her, but also gave him her brother's special lighter.

And she'd been his prisoner.

So comforting to know that kindness and compassion still existed in the world. After working so many years with Umbrella...after awhile one began to have their doubts. _Wow. She **is **just as beautiful as they say. _He thought, his eyes roaming over Alexis's nearly perfect figure.

Oddly enough, the young lass was dressed only in shorts, sandals, and a T-shirt. Not the proper attire for this weather, and it showed in the way she was constantly shivering; goosebumps prickling up all over her otherwise smooth skin. Her right arm was also wounded, and either she or a friend had bandaged it up with what looked like part of an old blanket.

Sloppy, but better than nothing. Hispanic Guy shook his head.

" You look cold." 

To Alexis's surprise, he stood up and pulled a heavy military coat she hadn't even noticed before from the back of his chair. " Here. Take this." He offered, holding the coat out.

Alexis didn't wait to be asked twice. Grateful, she snatched it up and put it on immediately. It was too big of course, but it was very warm. " Thank you. You're very kind."

Hispanic Guy laughed and made the famous it-was-nothing gesture with his good hand. " Naw. I aint nice, it's just..." _Just what? _Thoughtful acts didn't come naturally to him, and he was unused to people actually treating him like a human being for a change. This day may be the day from Hell, but these girls were sure from Heaven. It was just hard to be rude to someone who treated you so decently. Though usually a tad too far over on the self-centered side, when he was around good people like Alexia and Claire, he found himself thinking more and more of others.

How to put these thoughts into words?

" Well..." Faltering for words, he sank back down into his seat and gestured the empty bottle of hemo and lighter both respectively, " Someone once did me a favor even though most people in her circumstances wouldn't have. I guess kindness is contagious."

Alexis snuggled into her new coat, pleased to have something dry and halfway warm to wrap up in. " I wish that were _always _true."

The man--Alexis had let to learn his name--nodded solidly in firm agreement. " World would be a better place. But enough with the chitchat, you need to get off this island while you still have the chance. Hopefully you can meet up with Claire Redfield--she was the girl who helped me out. At least then you wouldn't be alone. Wait a minute..."he snapped his fingers, " what about your brother? I'm sure he would know all kinds of..."

Alexis opened her mouth to say _"He's not my brother." _Instead it came out, " I...I don't think that would be such a great idea. Alfred and I we uh...had a fight, and he's..." she strained for the right words, "...kinda outta the picture." She moved in closer, reached for her new friend's arm, " Come on, let's escape together! " _Or find the Hylen, _common sense argued. After all, she hadn't been sent back into time just to enjoy the scenery. What Veronica was planning on doing to the world made Rockfort Island look like a Picnic in Candyland.

Well, maybe not _that_ tame, but it was definitely small potatoes in comparison.

A gloomy, desolate frown manifested itself on the dark-skinned man's face. He shook his head slowly, already regretting the words he hadn't yet spoken.

" Sorry. I'd...like to but...I'm too big a liability. I'm hurt...pretty badly. I'd only slow you down. You'll have to go on without me."

" What?! No! I can't just leave you down here! We can get out together and..."

" No!" Hispanic Guy barked, his tone much harsher than he'd intended, " I mean, one way or the other, it just isn't practical. If I went with you I'd just get us both killed. It isn't pretty, but it's the truth. Alone you stand a better chance. It's...the way it has to be. After you've left I'll try and escape, that way if I go down at least I won't take you with me. I don't want my dying thoughts to be how much I hate myself for getting you killed as well."

" I understand." Alexis conceded solemnly. She lowered her cobalt gaze to the floor, marveled at just how incredibly filthy it was. " I just wish there was something I could do for you to make me feel...less guilty."

" There is."

Alexis's gaze rose from the ground, fixed on her newfound friend's haggard face. Her own features took on a note of surprise as she studied the expression closer and found, hidden beneath all the weariness and fear, a twinge of glinting hope.

" After you get out of this mess, try and change things for the better." He swept a feeble hand over the stacks of papers scattered about messily on his desk, causing the flames of both lighters to sway slightly in his wake, " Umbrella is a bad company, Alexia. But it doesn't have to be. As an Ashford you have the power to turn things around for the better. Nothing like this ever has to happen again. _Ever_." This last word was spoken with extreme emphasis, " Show Umbrella what it should be, help it become what it _can_ be. Not..._this_," he shifted his eyes around the dark room, letting the circumstances speak for themselves, " but an actual pharmaceutical company that helps people without all the secrets, misery, and death. Umbrella has a lot of power and influence. Why not use them for good? "

_Because I'm **not **Alexia, and there's no way on God's green earth she's going to let me get away with something like that. _Alexis sighed mentally. She wished things were different. She really did. But the truth could be a terrible, vicious thing. It was infamous for it's ability to crush hopes and tear down dreams. _Even if things were...different with Mom and Dad, I have no real power or influence. Just the Ashford name, and that's it. I doubt every single crooked scientist working on the next ultimate bioweapon would listen to me. Perhaps a few would but....it's a wonderful concept, I just don't see it happening anytime soon. I will do everything in my power to help see it through though. Small steps. Everything has to start somewhere._

" I will do everything I can." The still slightly shivering blonde promised resolutely, snuggling deeper into the folds of the coat.

Changing things for the better, that's what she'd been trying to do all along. If only this man knew the half of it. Of course, he thought she was Alexia, but so what? There was no point in arguing with him. It gave the real Alexia an undeserved but refreshing good image, and it was a far more believable explanation for her looks than anything she could come up with anyway.

Hispanic Guy smiled warmly, masking the fear and unease he felt inside. " I'd appreciate that. Here." He opened a drawer just beneath the table portion of the desk and produced a silver and black colored beretta along with a package of twenty _'American Wolf'_ bullets. " It's already loaded, so you'll have a little extra ammo in case of trouble. It's not much against those creatures but..." he shrugged, " it'll help."

Alexis took the weapon and shoved the pack of bullets into one of the army-camouflaged pockets of her new coat. Now she had a way of defending herself.

_No thanks to Steve. _The memory rushed back like an unwelcome guest, and was forced automatically to the darkest corners of her mind. No point it getting all bent out of shape over it. What was done was done, and in Steve's defense she _did_ look every bit like a member of the evil Ashford family, and that had done her in right from the start. If she had been in Steve's shoes--had gone through all _he_ had gone through--she honestly couldn't say she'd have behaved any differently. The family's bad rep was to blame, not Steve.

_Then why am I still upset over it?_

An awkward silence gripped the room, broken only by the rhythmic dripping of water falling from the loose piping. The room really wasn't in the best of repair. Now that she had a better look, Alexis could see the tiny prison cell with it's barely ajar door. That had to have been where Claire had stayed, and it looked quite cramped. The cot was nowhere near long enough to sleep on, and it looked as hard as a brick.

Which it probably was.

Alexis recalled her own miserable stay in a cell not much bigger than this one. How horrible that had been! She had only been there less than a month, but it had felt like a year. Meager portions of food and water. Only the most basic needs to keep you alive. Hours upon hours of endless boredom and waiting; wondering what they were going to do with you next. Praying for the metaphorical knight in shining armor. And, at least in her case, the ever-present threat of Wesker looming overhead.

Oh, she'd known he was bad news right from the start, but Alexis had never fully grasped how much danger she'd been in until she'd seen the man in action. He could have snapped her in two with barely any effort at all. He was practically like General Zod from _'Superman Two'_. Except that Zod at least showed mercy towards those who surrendered to his will, whilst Wesker was just plain twisted. It was a miracle she'd been able to escape him in one piece. Back in Africa, Alan had had to struggle pretty fiercely to defend her life. That was not a comforting thing to remember, especially with Mr. Death in Shades still on the loose.

For a long moment, neither soul spoke a word. Then Alexis's benefactor at last broke the quiet.

" Go on then. Claire was here almost an hour ago. If you hurry, you should still be able to catch her. The two of you together could figure it out from there."

" Are you sure you won't be needing...this? " She extended her right arm and displayed the gun properly, liking the feel of it's weight in her hand. It made her feel more powerful, less vulnerable. The question, of course, was rhetorical. She knew Hispanic Guy was going to say no and insist she have it, and it was only out of politeness that she had asked in the first place. Help ease the ride on the guilt trip.

" No, you go ahead. I have another one around here....somewhere. Even if I can't find it, I know where to get more. Please, don't worry about me. Claire was willing to have faith in me, I'd like for you to do the same. Think of it as payment for the coat and gun if it helps."

" Alright." Alexis offered a small, slightly chilled smile. Chilled only in the sense that she was still a bit a cold, and not for any other reason. Collecting her lighter, she spun on her heel and headed for the door. " Take care. I hope we'll meet again someday."

" That'd be nice. Watch your back, the zombies and mutants aren't your only enemies. Be careful who you trust."

" I will." Alexis was already out the door by now, and she shut it gently behind her. Now she had a coat, a weapon, and some vague semblance of a clue what to do.

All she had to do now was find the a piece of the Hylen.

And as she would soon discover, that was going to be very, very difficult.

** **


	24. Friend Or Foe?

**_A/N: _**FF still isn't allowing my favorite telepathy symbols. ((cries)) Until this changes, ( if it ever does ) thought-speak will be put in double parentheses and (( look like this )). I also use the double parentheses in place of the now-banned asterisks to denote actions at the end-of-the-chapter notes.

**Mile-Marker! **With this chapter this fic is now longer than Crimson Africa! Here's to lasting this long! _((laughs at play on words))_

Chapter 24

There was no warning. One second the Veronica-falcon was soaring the skies happily--free as a song, minding her own business, and the next there were sharp pains tearing through her back as powerful talons sank in through feather and flesh.

" Screeeeeeet! " The surprised shapeshifter cried out. What was going on here?! Who would have the audacity to attacker _her_?! Swiveling her neck, she had just enough time to register a flash of yellow and black before a hooked beak ripped into the muscles of her right wing: exactly where the wing connected to the body. (( Hey! Stop that! _Ow! _)) Blood gushed from the punctures and stuck the feathers to her skin like a warm, sticky glue.

Her attacker, the marshal eagle she'd spotted off in the distance earlier, tightened it's grip and began flying off with the hapless falcon who had dared to invade it's territory.

Hapless, but definitely not _helpless_. Initial shock was replaced with anger and the urge to survive. (( Oh, I'll bet you think you're so cool, don't you? The big bad wolf of the skies. Let's see how tough you feel after _this! _)) Though her telepathic words were lost on the big raptor, the powerful electrical shock she sent surging through every cell of her body registered loud and clear.

With a painful screech, the mighty eagle dropped her and fell; a helpless pinwheel of black and white feathers spiraling towards the ground. Veronica fell too, but only for about half a minute. It took about that long for her wounds to completely heal, spilled blood to vanish, and ruffled feathers to stiffen and straighten out. On the way down she flared her wings and tail feathers and gripped the nice sturdy branch of a tall tree with both feet. She then gave a falcon-sneeze of disgust, fluffing the feathers along her head and neck.

(( The nerve! )) She glanced off to the right, saw the injured eagle flapping slowly back up into the sky, surely regretting his decision to attack innocent falcons. (( Served you right, featherbrain! )) Veronica threw after him.

Five hundred years and she _still_ hadn't given up her habit of talking to animals.

The eagle would be okay, she knew. But he had learned a valuable lesson that would hopefully stick with him throughout the remainder of his life. Satisfied, the sorceress returned her attention to the lay of the land.

Lycandits growled and snorted below, constantly on the prowl for new prey. Serpentines slithered slowly into shadowy hiding, waiting to seize any who strayed. Off to the far left, in a man-made clearing surrounded on all sides by woods, stood a sorry excuse for a village of natives who had taken up residence on the island sometime during the 150 year span Veronica had been absent. The falcon tilted her head to one side, regarding the village with mild interest.

There was a cluster of about twenty or so huts constructed crudely of mud, fronds, thatch, and wood. A few dark-skinned natives bustled about among these, constructing primitive spears, knives, and other useless weapons that weren't going to do them a dang bit of good to defend them against the infusion of strange new creatures plaguing their homeland.

_No, not **their **homeland, **my **homeland. _These poor saps didn't stand a chance. Not against Veronica's pets. Her sharp eye caught the tattered remains of a tribesman all mutilated and torn to pieces at the foot of a giant mud statue tribute to some crackpot god these backward nobodies worshipped.

All the god he was doing them now.

Judging from the looks of things, these villagers weren't fairing so well. Already half the huts were empty, and the way things were looking now that number was soon to be on the rise.

Veronica shook her head, a very human gesture which was an odd motion for a peregrine flacon. These people were going to be massacred. She opened her wings and took to the air once more.

__

Oh well. It was no concern of hers. Law of the jungle: kill or be killed. Eat or be eaten. If these people weren't strong enough--or smart enough--to survive on her island, then they'd best get the heck off it. _Only the strong are worthy of survival._

If life had taught her anything, it was that. The first twenty years of her life, she'd been nobody. It was only after she'd at last secured _true_ power that she'd begun to make a name for herself. At last begun to carve a reputation. She certainly hadn't withstood the trials of life and time by being weak and soft.

This was a hard world to live in. In order to survive, you had to be equally as harsh. _Can't give an inch without some vicious competitor looking to rip you down. _Her attack just a moment ago from the marshal eagle had only fortified that belief; set it in stone.

Competition. The whole world was nothing but competition--a giant game of survival with the most ruthless players. There was no giving in; no fair play or bending the rules to benefit another, everyone played cutthroat.

Those backward natives below were definitely not cut out for survival in Veronica's new kingdom. _If I was to combine all their IQs together, then multiply that number by a thousand, I might have enough intelligence to tie my shoes. _Veronica snickered to herself. More by curiosity than any other drive, she wheeled around in the air and flew directly over the primitive community.

Surprise surprise, the savages had finally come to realize that their old-time sling-shots, knives, and bows and arrows weren't going to save them from a painful death. Now they were lifting their spears and weapons to the sky in a rhythmic chant, calling out loudly in some unknown language even Veronica's sorcery could not decipher.

Probably asking their god/gods/superheroes for their help and blessings, because they knew they stood the same chance as a one-legged man in an ass-kicking contest of surviving on their own. Figured. Perhaps these simpletons weren't all that dumb after all.

From her vantage point a hundred or so feet overhead, Veronica could all-too clearly make out their animal-hide loin-clothes and ridiculously painted faces that made them look more like circus freaks than a highly respected indigenous people. Now they shook their weapons, the inane chanting rising to an ear-murdering crescendo which carried past even the highest branches of the tallest trees.

(( Ugh. Make it stop! )) Veronica pleaded silently, winging back towards the trees. (( Wait a minute. What am I talking about, I'm a sorceress, I can _make_ it stop! ))

With that thought in mind, Veronica looped back towards the village, her aerial path forming a drunken '8'. Ignoring the nice thermal rising up from the center of the town directly over the large central fire everyone was gathered around, Veronica opted instead to buzz around in tight circles overhead, like an impatient vulture circling a dying fawn.

A few of the messy-faced primitives glanced up, but nothing more. As far as they were concerned, the Veronica-falcon flying overhead was nothing more than a regular bird looking for food. Veronica counted fifteen of them gathered around the fire, the light black smoke billowing upwards in the warm drafts and dazing all insects it came into contact with. It was around this smoke that she now circled, preparing to give these islanders a lesson they'd never forget.

" _Kareeeeeeet! _" The air split with the angry scream of a peregrine falcon!

Now the natives were watching closer. Oh yes, _definitely _closer. Once she was sure she had their full, undivided attention, Veronica clapped both wings together on their next beat down. Instantly sizzling white-hot bolts sprung from the impact and rained down onto the village, striking the ground, the fire, and one of the little huts simultaneously; setting all three ablaze. An explosive _'boom' _of thunder rocked the land and air, a special little sound effect to go along with the fancy fireworks.

The villagers had had enough. Now they were _really_ frightened. As Veronica looked on smugly, the panicked islanders made a wild dash for their huts; the women and younger children crying while the men raced about madly like chickens with their heads cut off.

Some of them dropped to their knees, kneeling and praying. Cowering before this strange new god who had seen fit to punish them. Fearing her. Worshipping her.

_As is the way it should be. _Veronica thought, pleased. It was no secret that she liked to show off. She was the most powerful sorceress in the world after all, and by golly she was darn _proud _of it. In time everyone would recognize her, in time everyone would worship her.

Oh yes, worship! Such beautiful, glorious worship! Veronica Ashford was back, and now she was going to re-shape her world and command respect, just like a god. _But first I must deal with some cretin who thinks he or she is just the hottest item since jalapeño peppers marinated in cayenne sauce and served up generously with minced Peruvian death pepper. _ Bitter reality rushed in and chased away those happy thoughts of domination.

Veronica felt her mood shift instantly, the way it always tended to do whenever she thought about the new kingdom she was planning on creating only to remember she still had a loose end to tie up.

Who was this powerful force that had risen to challenge her? Could it be, perhaps, the same force that had trapped her in the teacup just over a century and a half ago? It wasn't a far-fetched idea.

Whoever had the dark juice to do that had enough to easily survive centuries of time.

Then again, Veronica wasn't entirely sure just _who_ had imprisoned her in that infernal teacup to start with.

Oh sure, she had her suspicions.

It could have been that pair of so-called 'white witches' she'd angered centuries before. They believed Veronica to be some kind of evil demon from Hell. Perhaps even the daughter of Satan himself. Which was, of course, completely absurd, but they believed it nonetheless.

It could have been them, but the more she thought about it, the more Veronica believed that would be giving the sisterly duo _way _too much credit. First of all, they were _white_ witches. Which meant that, at least magic-wise, they would never be able to get very powerful. It was highly unlikely they'd be able to work up the mojo to trap a mighty sorceress such as herself. At least, not alone. Even a whole coven would have had difficulties gathering the energies necessary for such an enforced binding spell.

So who else did that leave?

_Circe. _Yes, the mythical sorceress depicted in the Greek poet Homer's famous _Odyssey_ was not as mythical as people thought. Old Homer was closer to the truth than anyone realized. Veronica had actually encountered her twice in the past: once when she was a fledgling amateur magic-doer still under Lord Valerian's protective wing, and once later on on Circe's very own Aeaea Island when she had at last become skilled. The other sorceress had been jealous, incensed by the fact the Veronica was at last more powerful than her. That had led to something of a...heated confrontation.

Oh yes, Veronica knew Circe. She disliked her intensely.

In fact, it was more likely Circe, and _not_ the white witches, that Veronica had to blame for her entrapment.

Veronica really prayed this was the case, because the last suspect, Discord herself, was just too frightening a concept. And the scary thing was, even though she desperately wanted it not to be, and regardless of who had trapped her in the teacup in the first place, she was almost certain the one rising to challenge her in the here and now was Discord.

Much as Veronica would never openly admit it, that scared her. Frightened her infinitely more than the empty threats of retribution she knew were coursing through Alexia's vengeful mind. Horrified her even more than the idea of losing all her magical abilities.

Discord played dirty. She may even have been able to finish Circe off after all this time, who knew? _And if she has done that....oh Veronica, what are you getting yourself into?_

A big mess, that was what.

It stirred up some depressing memories of their last encounter, an incident which Veronica hoped never to repeat. A little dab of Discord went a long way. Hoping to dislodge such morbid thoughts, Veronica climbed higher up into the air until she had almost the entire island in her view and began looping around again.

It was a half-hearted attempt. Even the sheer giddiness of flight couldn't distract her from the fact that all may not go as smoothly as planned. Especially if her adversary had increased in power during her unwanted stay in Teacup-Land. Even after conjuring up some of the best defenses magic had to offer--little traps which affected the mind as well as the body in addition to the awesome beasts--the redheaded sorceress was still on edge.

_Well, if it **is** Discord I'm just going to have to put her in her place. After all, if she was the one who trapped me she obviously didn't have the juice to take me out in a fair fight. Maybe she's afraid of me. That's why she's playing games now instead of showing herself. That must be it. People have tried to kill me before, and always I prevailed. I am Veronica Ashford, the most powerful sorceress in existence. I am untouchable. Invincible. Whatever the threat, I WILL be victorious! I will crush my enemies' bones to powder under my stylish new-age boots and I **will** be Queen. Foolish for me to worry, Discord doesn't even have the Hylen. And, thanks to me, she never will. I hid that sucker good. _Comforted somewhat by the cold hard facts, she performed a double-inside-out loop before spilling air and plummeting into a dive, the wind racing through her feathers and boosting her adrenaline level to an all-time high.

_No. Discord cannot best me,_ she assured herself even as the leafy canopy of trees below raced up at supersonic speed in her field of vision, _she probably can't even best a remote-control. Hah! _Veronica laughed heartily at her own joke and skimmed along the tops of the trees, talons brushing through the leaves and scaring several little monkeys into a wild chatter and frenzied dashes for cover.

No matter how you looked at it, facts were facts, and the fact was: Discord wasn't going to be getting anywhere without that Hylen. Period.

Her confidence renewed, the self-assured wiccan-turned-sorceress pumped her wings and headed back for her fortress. She was actually embarrassed at having been frightened so easily; whoever was behind the hocus-pocus hadn't the guts to show their face, and, well, Veronica was tired of waiting around. It was time to carry on as planned. If and when a threat arose, she would deal with it just as she had countless times in the past.

You didn't mess with an Ashford.

However, someone was clearly planning to.

Not a quarter of a mile from her very own personal Fortress Of Solitude and Veronica's sharp raptor eyes picked it up--a human-sized black streak shooting across the barren deep yellow desert sand towards the castle.

_Her_ castle.

Surprising just how fast this creature was moving: it had to be close to one hundred miles-per-hour.

What living thing could go that fast? Nothing in her internet-knowledge held the answer, and since odds were 100 to 1 it wasn't the world's fastest pure-black cheetah setting new records she'd better take a closer look.

If this...thing...turned out to be a threat, it would have to be dealt with.

The blur of motion sped on, quickly closing the distance between it and the main gates. No problem.

It was fast, Veronica was faster.

One moment she was far behind, flapping madly to keep up, and the next instant she was directly ahead of her speedy target and already entering the famous falcon dive for a grand entrance.

" Creeeeee! " Whatever this new thing was, it was going to regret crossing paths with her!

__

(((---(((---(((

On the ground, Wesker heard the fierce battle-cry of a bird of prey and stopped dead in his tracks, kicking up a cloud of dust in the process. Instantly he turned his sights skyward and was quick to notice the mass of brown and slate feathers dropping from the heavens like a well-guided missile.

_What is **this**_? Startled, he removed his snappy aviators and placed them in his pocket with a cool calmness.

A bird diving at him...no, not _at_ him, straight for the ground! Was he seeing right?

There was no time to think about it--the crazy bird had reached the end of it's dive. Five feet above the ground, it suddenly pulled up, flaring wings and tail; talons extended as if alighting on some imaginary perch--

_Flash!_

The sudden bright scarlet light temporarily blinded Wesker, and when he next looked at the ground ten feet in front of him there was a young redheaded teenager standing there and not a bird at all. He blinked his eyes back into focus, the black pupils narrowing to cat-like slits in the increased light.

It was incredible. Here he was, standing face-to-face with what at first glance appeared to be a bubbly air-headed sixteen-year old going through a fashion phase. She was dressed in a blazing red tank-top that put the coppery tones of her hair to shame, and just under her black leather belt were black leather pants so tight it looked like they were painted on her. On the footwear front, those almost knee-high black platform boots made a statement all their own.

In addition, the rest of her attire consisted of two thin ruby-studded black-leather straps that were presumably bracelets around each wrist, and either her and Alexia shopped at the same place or else this girl had stolen Alexia's old choker she had worn that first night Wesker had encountered her, which would have been pretty hard considering the fact that the non-jewel portion of said choker had been burnt to cinders during Alexia's fiery transformation.

However, her attire wasn't the only thing striking about this young woman.

Straight, shoulder-length coppery red hair framed a very pretty face whose main highlights were deep cherry-red lips and wild purple eyes. As if the former weren't already enough to make her the star of every lovesick teenaged-boy's dream, her creamy skin was completely healthy, flawless, and unmarred. Not a single blemish tainted her image.

It took the guesswork out of her identity. Only magic--or Hollywood--could make someone look _that_ perfect.

Wesker inclined his head slightly, and the edge of his lip curved up in the ghost of a smirk. " I take it you are Veronica Ashford? "

Before Veronica's expression had been one of confusion and curiosity--she hadn't expected the intruder to be a man--but upon hearing her name from this stranger's lips she couldn't resist a small smile.

" Aye. You know of me then? " She was so excited her words came hard and fast, and Wesker thought he detected just the faintest traces of a French accent, " Who are you stranger? " Now her expression hardened some, and she gazed at him through suspicious narrowed eyes. In her glee at having been recognized, she'd almost forgotten that this man had no business near her castle. _Mustn't let down my guard..._Her tone hardened to match her expression, " Are you aware you are trespassing on dangerous grounds? "

As was to be expected with someone magical enough to earn the title 'sorceress', Wesker's red and gold cat's eyes seemed to have no effect on her at all. He had to hand it to her: Veronica was very pretty. A tad too immature for his tastes though.

Of course, he had to keep reminding himself that that was merely how Veronica _chose_ to appear. Based on what that white witch had said the enchantress was actually centuries old.

As was everything else about her, Veronica's looks were misleading.

It was easy enough to tell she was one of the high-and-mighty Ashfords though: Veronica was facing him now with just as much confidence and dignity as her descendant Alexia had coming down those red velvet steps years ago. Apparently, insane superiority complexes were hereditary.

Wesker found himself both captivated and wary at the same time. Obviously, he'd never dealt with anyone like this before, and he knew next to squat about this cute red-haired 'teen' except that she was the founder of the entire noble Ashford line, her descendant Alexander had had an unhealthy obsession with her, and most people tended to believe she had died over a hundred and fifty years ago. 

Was he missing anything?

Oh yes.

She was also a highly powerful sorceress.

Did this tip the odds in her favor?

Definitely.

A cruel, sadistic, child-murdering psychopath he may be, but one thing Albert Wesker had never been called was stupid. This wasn't some viral-enhanced super-being he was dealing with here; this territory was completely alien. Best to play it safe until he was sure exactly what position he was in. Then he would play it from there.

So far, Veronica didn't seem to want to flay him, so there was a plus.

He narrowed his eyes to match hers, summoned up his most persuasive stare. Though outwardly his posture was calm and collected, inside his muscles were tensed and stiffened, ready for immediate action at a second's notice should things take a turn towards crazy.

When he spoke, it was with cool, casual tones, " I'm Wesker, a genetically-enhanced super-being. I have heard you are a great sorceress." He hadn't been sure how Veronica would react, but he certainly hadn't been prepared for the shrill, high-pitched giggle that escaped her throat, or the way her face brightened to about 5,000 watts.

" _Great?! **Me**! _Oh really, who told you I was...." Veronica stopped, realizing that not only was she twittering excessively like an excited finch, but she was also taking a ride straight to the top on the 'ol ego roller-coaster. And that was never good for first impressions. She cupped a hand to her mouth and added with a cough, " ...ahem, I mean, yes I am. But you still have not explained what you were doing racing towards my castle, Mr. Wesker."

_Wait a minute here....what **was** he doing coming at my castle...and he knew my name without me telling him...a spy from my enemy, perhaps? _Veronica stepped forward threateningly, her eyes clouding up with a red haze until both the pupils and whites were all but eclipsed by two fiery blazes. " I am not benevolent, explain yourself or be incinerated where you stand." For that last sentence her tone had changed, became darker and more menacing.

Wesker did not yield an inch. He didn't doubt the Veronica was as powerful as she said, but it was not in his nature to just bolt off like his late teammate Brad Vickers every time the chips were down.

No, Wesker was an opportunist--if he knew anything, it was how to turn the odds to his favor.

" Whoa, easy there Miss Ashford! " He held up both open palms in the universal gesture that went with the words, " I didn't come to try your patience, I was hoping perhaps we could become allies."

The red fire vanished from Veronica's eyes as quickly as it had come. Then she laughed--a soft, delicate laugh that was very nearly a deadringer for Alexia. " Thanks for the offer, but I think I can survive without you."

Wesker had been prepared for a possible rejection, so he was ready when the sorceress suddenly struck out with her right hand and sent a fireball hurtling at him that would make Alexia sick with envy.

A flash of movement and he missed the blast. _By about three centimeters. She is pretty fast. Perhaps seeking her out wasn't such a hot idea after all. Still...I may be able to sway her, all I need is the right words_...a bright snake of electricity crossed his path, barely missing his right leg..._and a few seconds._

" My, you are fast! " Veronica chirped with a gleeful grin, " Points for that, my descendant was not as quick on her feet."

_So she's battled Alexia as well! _Wesker was pleasantly surprised. The thought of Alexia getting hers by a figure she and her whole family had practically worshipped was simply delicious. Veronica had undoubtedly thrashed her. Which begged the question, was the blonde-haired T-Veronica carrier still alive?

Hard to say--Wesker considered himself good at reading people and guessing their plans-of-action, but he'd known Veronica for less than five minutes; not enough to make an educated guess on whether or not she would kill her own family.

Only one thing was certain: if Alexia _was_ still alive, she was no longer the queen ant of the Ashford colony.

He turned his head at just the instance to see five mini-tendrils of blue lighting crackle forth from each of the extended fingers on Veronica's right hand. With the aid of his super-speed, he managed to miss all but one of the bolts.

The last hit him just below his right knee, electrifying his senses with a painful _jolt_ that caused him to falter and stumble in his stride. Frantic, he looked down at his injured leg. He hadn't been sure what exactly a bolt would do if it hit him, but he was much relieved to discover it hadn't left a bloody, gaping hole just below his kneecap.

Come to think of it, the jolt of the impact was much akin to the same jolt you'd get from touching an electrified cow fence; not enough to do serious damage, but quick and painful nonetheless. It felt just like being kicked by a mule.

" Gotcha! " Veronica mewled, clearly enjoying this. She lowered her hand to her side.

_There. _Seeing a weakening in her defense, Wesker zoomed in to make the most of it--making good every ounce of his superhuman speed.

__

Yes! Veronica was too slow!

He would hit her in...nothing.

_What the..._Wesker hit the brakes and actually skidded in the sand, completely murdering a baby fern beneath his boots in the process. _This is crazy!_

The HCF operative was completely thrown. He'd just been ready to hit Veronica, and in less time than it took to blink, she just....wasn't there.

" Over here, Speedy Gonzalez."

Startled, Wesker turned to see his opponent standing directly behind him...over fifty feet away. _Wow. That's pretty impressive. Teleportation. Ah, of course._

What Wesker didn't know was that Veronica had actually slowed down time--but only for him. Whilst to his eyes and to his perception he was racing along at top speed, to the rest of the world he was a ridiculously slow runner comically suspended in time. Veronica had in fact taken her time walking around him, expecting this bold challenger from every angle. Though she hadn't said it aloud, she had actually found him rather attractive. She had waited until she was a safe distance away before returning his speed to normal; more because she wanted to see that priceless look of surprise on his face than out of any fear of him landing a successful blow.

She was getting the desired expression now, and she had to laugh. Clueless! Wesker looked so clueless! This was fun!

Spreading her arms out wide she called, " Come and get me! "

Against his better instincts, Wesker charged. He wasn't sure why: Veronica was so obviously baiting him with a trap and here he was playing right into it. A part of him just really wanted to hurt her.

This time he extended his fist. Sorceress or no, if this hit made it...if this blow connected, Veronica was going to be in some pain.

But Veronica was ready. Magical enhances to her eyes made them swift enough to follow, and this time instead of slowing time she simply leapt up high into the air.

Wesker's aim, of course, missed by miles. He looked up to see his adversary leering down at him from twenty feet , literally _standing _on _nothing_.

" I'll give you an 'A' for effort." She teased lightly, proceeding to _walk_ on thin air just as easily as if it were a hardwood floor. Indeed, just because she didn't happen to have any wings at the moment didn't mean Veronica couldn't fly.

Despite the famous ironclad composure he was famous for, Wesker couldn't help but to form his mouth into a tiny 'o'.

Unbelievable!

Chris and company were up against _this_? Hylen or no, he couldn't help but to think that that little mission had been doomed from square one. The platinum-blonde pointed a gloved finger up at the smirking sorceress and wiggled it from side to side.

" Now that's cheating! " He declared lightly, still hoping to win Veronica's affections.

The ploy worked.

" I suppose you're right." Veronica returned playfully. She galloped down from her position like she was running down a flight of stairs. A flight of stairs that didn't exist.

It was pure pretentiousness. Wesker didn't know it, but Veronica had already decided she liked him and was now showing off with the sole intent of impressing him.

And the object of her affection _was _impressed, there was no hiding that. However, he was also wary. The instant Veronica's feet touched solid ground he lunged forward again, arm held out in front just as before.

He hadn't really expected to hit anything. His plan of action had been simply to have Veronica dodge aside or whatever as usual and then tear off back towards the jungle and to hell with her. Thus he was quite surprised when his arm connected with flesh and Veronica flew back twenty-five feet, landing on her back solidly against the ground with a muffled " _Oomphf._"

_Well well, how about that? Miss Look-At-Me-I-Can-Walk-On-Air isn't invincible after all. _Wesker killed his momentum and froze where he stood, boots digging into the ground a little harder than necessary.

A war was raging inside his mind: instinct, curiosity, optimism, and fear all kicking in and clashing violently over what they wanted his body to do. He wasn't sure if he should run, stay put, move in, or say something.

He was just on the verge of deciding to haul butt in case Veronica was angry about taking a dive when the ditzy redhead sat up, rubbing her chest and shaking sand and twigs out of her hair. She awarded her attacker a friendly wink, which took him completely by surprise.

" Ya got me! " She grimaced just a tiny bit, climbing awkwardly to her feet before bowing and adding, " Nice job. Not many men would be able to do what you just did." She held out both hands, and for a moment Wesker was afraid she was going to throw another powerbolt just on principal, but no, she was just giving him two thumbs-ups. " Yeah. You'll work as an ally."

A wave of relief swept over Wesker, and he struggled to maintain that cool and collected expression. He arched a golden eyebrow in mild surprise. " So you were testing me then. Excellent strategy."

Veronica nodded, but the action didn't appear too serious. " Yup! I had to make sure you had what it took. You see, weak, wimpy men tend not to last too long with me. Oh, I don't kill 'em, if that's what you're thinking, it's just..." She was coming towards him now, her body language indicating no hidden intent, and Wesker allowed himself to relax a hair, " it'll be nice having a man around who can take care of himself for a change." She paused just a few feet away from him, gazing up at him through coppery red bangs, violet eyes sparkling with magic.

Now that they were face-to-face and close enough to reach out and touch, it struck Wesker fully how incredibly small Veronica was. She stood almost a full foot below him--he guessed her height to be around 5'2--and probably weighed little more than half what he did. Any idiot could see she was small-boned. Alexia hadn't been an Amazon, but Veronica was smaller than her by at least a couple inches and thirty pounds. To look at her, you wouldn't think something so fragile, pretty, and delicate-looking could possibly hold such power. If it weren't for her magic, Wesker would have easily been able to break her in half, even without the physical upgrades of the T-2 virus. She didn't look like she could win a fight with Rebecca, much less Alexia. Such a small package...

_Dynamite comes in small packages. _Wesker pursed his lips and was about to speak when Veronica cut him to the quick.

" What's the matter, aren't you thrilled to be on my side? " Her voice was a soft, velvety purr.

Maybe even a _seductive_ soft, velvety purr.

Just as it was occurring to the former S.T.A.R.S. captain that maybe this redhead had a thing for him, and maybe, just _maybe_ she was flirting with him, the unexpected happened.

Reaching up, Veronica slung both arm's around Wesker's neck and pulled his face down to her level with a strength he'd never guessed she'd have.

Their lips brushed in a tender kiss.

It was incredibly short-lived, however, as Veronica quickly pulled away and blushed until her face was almost the same color as her hair. _Oh, that was aces all the way! I wonder what he thinks of it? _She studied her new friend's face carefully, checking for any telltale signs. 

There had been no love in the action, of course--still much too early for that--but it had felt good to just get lost in the moment and give as kiss to a strong man she found attractive. He may already be married, but that little detail was vastly unimportant. Right now, it was just a physical attraction. It may never develop into anything more than that. If it did, however, well...to put it in simplest terms, Veronica wasn't in the least worried about irate wives.

Wesker looked as though he'd just been hit on by Alexia. _Wha...that certainly was unexpected! _ The last thing he'd been expecting Veronica Ashford to do was kiss him. _She's even more mental than her descendants!_

Before actually meeting her, Wesker had assumed Veronica would be much like Alexia: icy, calculating, and overly-serious in an insane, all high-and-mighty way.

Yes, Alexia had been all business.

Veronica wasn't like that at all.

Well, okay, she obviously had the whole superiority complex and insanity down pat, but she definitely wasn't icy or serious and there sure wasn't anything 'calculating' at all about her words or actions.

In fact, observing her now with that bashful, starry expression plastered on her face, Veronica reminded Wesker a lot of a lovestruck 14 year old. Not to mention the icky feeling that came with being kissed by a girl his daughter's age.

_No, **not** my daughter's age. Her appearance is only a glamour, Veronica is in fact much older than me. _But how much older was that? All he knew for sure was that Veronica was over 150. She could very well be Yoda's age. _Or more..._

As if reading his mind, Veronica tilted her head to one side feigning a pouty, hurt look and over-doing it on the puppy-eyes. " What, is this too young for you? I assure you, I am much older than I look." To demonstrate, she brought her right hand up over her head and pulled it down in a swift sweeping motion. 

Instantly she was aged ten years, her childlike, pretty face replaced with the full mature beauty of a twenty-six year old woman. Her now longer hair spilled into flaming waves of silk down her back.

Her attire had changed also--the punk, teeny-bopper clothes replaced with a flowing dress the exact same magical shade of violet as her eyes. In addition to everything else, she had added perhaps an inch to her height. The bracelets were gone, but the Alexia-choker was still in place firmly around her neck.

" Perhaps you find this more agreeable? " Veronica purred in a deeper, more mature voice. She lifted an eyebrow in question, " Or shall I go to thirty-six? Makes no difference to me, I can appear any way I choose any time I want."

" Oh no, that's...quite alright." Wesker answered awkwardly, finding nothing wrong with the sorceress's current projection. It was still to weird to be true. He just hadn't expected Veronica to be like this. He simply couldn't have imagined she'd accept his proposal so readily.

It was now almost certain she'd only been playing with him in her earlier 'test' to see if he had what it took. Perhaps she'd even let him hit her, although that part wasn't as clear. To her credit she _had _seemed surprised.

For perhaps the first time since that first awkward encounter with Clarice, Wesker was tongue-tied. Nothing like this had ever happened before. What did you say to a centuries-old badass sorceress who not only accepted your allegiance, but had a crush on you as well?

_You just be thankful things are going so well and take it in stride._

An awkward silence filled the moment.

Veronica sure hated those. If Wesker wasn't going to say something, then by all means _she _sure was.

" Come on." Her eyes shifted to the main gates, and the heavy wrought-iron doors swung open on some unspoken command with barley a scuffle against the rocky ground, " There is much to do, but first I want to show you around Castle Ashford and discuss a few simple rules. It should only take a few minutes."

" Agreed." Wesker followed his new mistress through the gates, still unable to believe his luck. Finally, he was in a position to acquire some real power!

There was something gnawing at the back of his mind...there it was. The white witch and her plans to use the Hylen to defeat Veronica. He would warn her, of course. But it could wait a few minutes until he'd had a proper tour.

In the blink of an eye, HCF and his assignment with them was forgotten.

Albert Wesker had just switched teams.

__

---

( For all you purists out there, I'm very sorry, because I know you're going to groan, but yes, I had to alter the Ashford twin's birthday slightly in order for all the dates to fit with their kids' age and how long Alexia stayed in hibernation.

Instead of Apr. 18, 1971, which was stated in the game, I had to shift it to Apr. 18, 1969. That was the only possible way I could make it fit, as any other way Alexia would have been much too young to have kids before going into hibernation.

I originally goofed up when I thought Alexia had been 15 when she went in hibernation, but upon further study I realized that that would have made the year 1986 and she would have woken up in 2001, which firmly disagrees with RECV's date. She actually would have been about or very, very close to 13 when she went into her tube, but if I'd stuck with that I couldn't have her have Ash and Alexis until MUCH later on. Since I try to keep as close as I can with the timeline, I had no choice but to say she was 15 when she went into tube-land and bump her age up 2 years.

If the Ashfords were born in 1969 in my universe, everything else agrees with the original RE timeline. Ash was born in 1983 and Alexis in 1984. Then Alexia hibernated for very close within months to the supposed 15 years and just while we're on that topic, the game actually does support the idea she came out of stasis a little early and came out just when she did in the game. All I did was age her and Alfred 2 years. Sorry, but I couldn't think of any other way to make it fit. )


	25. Bleak Future

__

**Chapter 25**

The hospital wasn't far, but the cluttered streets, broken machines, zombies, and other nasties made getting there a somewhat daunting task, especially since it was nighttime and thus vision was impaired. Celia and Sultan seemed to have no problems getting about; indeed it was as if they knew these parts like the back of their own hands. Or, in Sultan's case, paws. For the rag-tag S.T.A.R.S. members following them, however, it was a different story.

Claire, for the most part, was keeping as close to her brother and his wife as humanly possible. She kept scanning the terrain nervously, looking for hidden beasts while her confused mind still struggled to accept the fact that this was the year 2010 and the surviving residents of whatever city this was were reduced to hiding out in hospitals while vicious monsters prowled the streets. Not exactly a vacation in Disneyland. In fact, it was feeling more and more like a venture into the Realm of Nightmares.

__

All this in the year 2010? What happened?! How far did the virus outbreak spread? Were whole states infected? Countries? And...what happened to our future counterparts? Chris says he saw Alan, and Alan obviously was having issues, but what about everyone else? The questions were endless. Claire couldn't even begin to guess at them.

On the other side of Chris, Jill gave her husband's hand a gentle squeeze. This wasn't as it should be. Then again, what in their lives ever was?

All around in every direction she looked was nothing but death, carnage, rot, and destruction. It was like being on some horrendous battlefield right after a big war. So many people dead...and not just people, but animals as well. There were enough dead and mutated cats and dogs languishing about to start a pet cemetery, and three or four times that many people. Against all odds, it seemed impossible that anyone other than the virus-carriers should be able to survive in this bleak, dead city.

So much death...by and by, her eye caught a few corpses too small to be adults. Viruses didn't care about age. Jill looked away, tried to keep her eye on the woman and tiger in the lead. But there was just no shaking the horrific images from the back of her mind.

How many other mothers had lost their children? How many others had grieved over loved ones that would never return? And how was it that Celia could be so cheerful in such trying times? And...here was perhaps the scariest one of all...why wasn't anyone trying to escape this city? Her natural curiosity won out, and at last she could hold the questions no longer. Celia was just going to have to like it or lump it.

" Celia? How did this city get like this? " She paused, feeling kind of stupid as the answer to that was quite obvious, and added as an afterthought, " I mean, what kind of virus spilled here, and why hasn't anyone done anything about it? " She stepped over a tire in her path and shook her head at the grisly sight of even more death just around the corner. Those poor people.

Celia didn't even look back. " Massive viral spill." She stately flatly, " T and G types mostly, I think, though there may have been another we call the X-virus because not much is known about it. We couldn't stop it. By the time anyone realized anything was wrong it was too late."

" Why didn't..." Chris's question was cut off by the super-load moan of a zombie lunging in for the kill. Rounding the charred remains of an overturned semi laying on it's side blocking a large intersection, the group came face to face with a whole nest of zombies!

" Stay back, we'll handle this." Celia decreed, pulling a magnum from a holster Chris had somehow failed to notice strapped around her hip.

_Bam! Bambambam!_

The Asian woman was an excellent shot. The first three zombies went down instantly--their hideously disfigured faces reduced to mush.

" Raaaaaaawwrr! " With a battle cry that was half roar and half snarl, Sultan lunged at the next two--an orange and black whirlwind of teeth and claws. Both virus-carriers went down under his weight, and it was only a matter of seconds before the big cat tore them to shreds just as easily as if they were made of paper-maché, completely comfortable with the idea of getting dead, congealed, virus-blood in his mouth and all over his shiny coat.

Chris's eyes widened in disbelief. " You _sure_ he's vaccinated against the viruses? " It was too good to be true.

Celia checked to ascertain it was safe to continue before answering. " Yes. No more questions, please. My leader can help you. She's the one who created the vaccines, you know." There was a bit of a change in her voice. Sadness was at last creeping in; the whole cheery visage just an illusion projected solely for her company's benefit. Celia wasn't ecstatic about living in zombie-central, and who could blame her?

_That's a good thing. _Chris didn't see how anyone could even _pretend_ to be happy in these conditions, even for the sake of keeping up morale. Obviously a hell of a lot had happened in six years and he had every intention of interrogating this 'Leader' their black-haired guide kept talking about.

The minutes ticked by in relative silence. With all the monsters prowling around, it was a smart idea to make as little noise as possible. Not like Celia was going to be offering any answers anyway. _Which isn't a bad thing,_ the S.T.A.R.S. captain supposed, rubbing his temple and wincing at the pain still lingering in the back of his head and stomach, _Not talking until you reach a safe area is actually a very smart tactic. _His head throbbed with an enforced pain, and not for the first time it took all his effort not to cry out.

Alan had done some serious damage. Getting kicked in the stomach by him didn't hurt any less than it had with Wesker, only Wesker hadn't sent him flying into a brick wall next to a hungry monster. Not that his ex-boss would pass up the chance, of course. He wondered if his nephew knew--or cared--just how close he had come to killing him. _Alan, what's gotten into you?_

A few more minutes of walking, and the street opened up into a wide parking lot that was, for the most part, devoid of clutter and dead bodies. To the side of this lot, the milky-white surface of a large building reflected in the it be?

Yes! It was the hospital!

_Now we're getting somewhere! _Chris thought, then instantly changed his mind. Something was wrong with this picture. The windows were all dark, with no light shining from within. If the building was full of survivors and refugees, wouldn't there be some kind of light coming from at least a _few _of the windows?

The hospital itself wasn't small; there had to be seven stories and several different mini-clinics and divisions. _What the hell is going on here?_

Chris was about to ask when just in front of him Celia suddenly stopped and froze in her tracks, like a wary doe about to cross an open meadow. Sultan crouched at her feet, plainly well-trained and obedient.

" Celia, what's wrong? " Claire worried.

The black-haired Asian girl turned on her in a whiplash frenzy, her face heavy with panic, " Shh! It might not be safe...quick, get low! "

Nobody argued.

Celia knew this area better than anyone--if she said it wasn't safe, it probably wasn't. Instinctively the S.T.A.R.S. dropped low to the ground, crouching behind an ugly beat-up pickup that had most likely been a piece of junk even _before _the outbreak. One of it's doors still hung open, suggesting that it's owner had fled into the streets.

Celia killed her flashlight, dashed for the pickup, and kneeled down so close to Chris that the casual observer would have guessed him married to _her _rather than Jill. Her dark eyes were wild with worry, and she kept glancing around anxiously.

The others looked around too.

It was eerily quiet, save the constant moans of the undead citizens and the noises they and other creatures made bumping into things and ripping them apart in their neverending quest for a fresh meal.

" _Be _very_ quiet_." Celia whispered, and her voice was so quiet that Claire over on the farthest end of the little line could just barely hear.

Sultan lay flat on his belly exactly where he had stopped; a resting coil of muscles and fur. Alert, he scanned the area with lively eyes and fully-erect ears.

After three minutes had elapsed with no threat on their lives, Celia rose up cautiously and motioned for the others to do the same.

" What was _that_ all about? " Claire wondered, careful to keep her voice low.

Celia shook her head gently, her expression grim. " The Weskers. We have to be very careful messing around out here."

" You got that right." Chris groaned, the last to stand up join the others following her lead to the hospital, " I already met up with Alan."

It was as if a bullet had been fired.

Celia was halfway through the lot when she suddenly stopped, and for a wretched instance her new friends were afraid something was _seriously_ wrong. When she turned, it was quickly enough to startle even Sultan. The big cat actually leapt back a pace. Dark eyes fixed firmly on Chris's.

" You met _Alan?!_ You are lucky to have escaped with your life! " She looked surprised, in awe even.

Chris swallowed nervously. _What is **wrong** with this messed-up future? _He opened his mouth to reply and was cut off sharply by Claire.

" But Alan Wesker's good! "

Celia shook her head firmly and gave the expectant mother an odd look, as if she'd just declared herself the Queen of Nepal. " Wha? _Good?! _Where have you been all this time, under a rock? Maybe he used to be, but that was before..." The young woman stopped mid-sentence, catching herself. " Nevermind." She waved it aside, turning back to the building, " She said you probably wouldn't make much sense. She has volunteered to explain it all."

Now Chris was getting frustrated, and he wasn't the only one. " Who's _she_? Why do you insist on being so vague? "

" Celia, how can you expect us to trust you? " Jill voiced, speaking up for the first time in a while, " Why won't you at least tell us her name? "

" It would certainly help." Claire agreed.

Now they were at the doors, and Celia opened them carefully, checking out the interior of the darkened room. " Quiet, you are about to meet her. Sorry I couldn't answer you more, but it's not a good idea to talk in enemy territory."

The room looked awfully inviting. At least it did to Sultan. He bounded in happily and without fear, which his human friends took as a darn good sign. Still, the three time-travelers were a little reluctant to follow when Celia entered the room, despite her assurance that it was safe.

However, anything was better than sitting outside in Ground Zero. One by one, Chris, Claire, and Jill all mustered up the courage to follow their through the doors.

Once inside, Chris had to force his eyes to adjust to the dark. They were standing in a large reception room, filled with untidy rows of traditional ugly hospital-style waiting chairs and a wide hallway straight ahead going down the middle to other rooms. There were soft shuffling noises and quiet voices coming from these other rooms, and they all sounded human. It was impossible to catch exact words in the snippets of conversation, but some of the voices were strained, as if in pain.

" Dr. Ashford! " Celia called out, causing the whole room to jump.

" _Ashford?! _" Chris spat instantly, fully prepared to grab the girls and bolt out the door. _I knew this was too good to be true! No wonder Celia didn't want to say much, it was a trap! It was a trap and we walked right into it!_

" Alexia?! " Claire panicked. She shot Celia a poisonous look, and Jill was already turning for the door.

Now Celia was frantic. " Calm down! Calm down! Ally isn't going to..."

" It's quite alright." A soft, soothing voice from the mouth of the hall announced, drawing Sultan to spring up and bolt gleefully over to the source, " I am not Alexia. Do not be afraid." Directly ahead, a shadowy figure approached with slow steps until a female shape could be discerned.

Then...light! A tiny spark and a lone flame flared into existence, followed quickly by another and another and another. A candle holder. The flickering glow of the growing flames illuminated the face of a pretty yet refined young woman with flowing, straw-colored hair and eyes of dazzling cobalt. She looked very much like an Ashford, though not quite as beautiful as Alexia or Alexis. This one had more of a soft look to her.

She awarded the wary S.T.A.R.S. a small smile, and Jill's hand froze inches from the door, " A pleasure to see you again, Chris, Claire, Jill. It is sad you come during these bleak times. May I offer you some food or drink? Perhaps medicine? You all look very tired." Her warm gaze extended to Celia, and she excused the Asian with a nod. " You may go now, Celia. Thank you for bringing them here. Carter wishes to speak with you."

Celia gave a pleasant nod before passing her leader and jogging off down the hall, apparently to 'Carter' whoever the heck he was.

By this point Chris wasn't sure what to expect anymore.

Neither was Claire. She approached he friendly Ashford slowly, studying her expression very closely, as if she expected her to lunge out and attack her at any moment.

The blonde gave a gentle laugh. " It's alright. Don't you remember me? "

Claire shook her head, and Chris and Jill hurried to her side.

The Ashford took a step closer, and now they noticed that she was wearing a white labcoat with a dark-blue shirt tucked all business-like underneath.

" I'm Alexandra." She jerked her head back a bit and motioned with her eyes the way Celia had gone. " Of course, around here I go mostly by either Alex, Ally, or Dr. Ashford. Perhaps you knew me as a child? " She shut her eyes briefly, trying to grasp a fleeting thought. " We met in Africa, remember? I'm the daughter of Alfred and Alexia and the sister of Ash and Alexis. Please do not be alarmed, despite my last name I am actually very tame."

There was a moment of shock as Chris and the girls absorbed this information.

" You're _Alexandra?!" _Claire gasped, unable to take her eyes off the woman, " But you...you're..."

" Older? " Alexandra finished, " Yes. In reality I am only nine years old, but as you may already know my T-Veronica virus accelerated my cellular growth, causing me to age much faster than I normally would have. Based on my research, and a mirror of course, I calculate my projected age to be about twenty-two."

For the first time, Claire managed to crack a smile. " So you still have your virus? "

Alexandra nodded. " Yes. Now if I may ask please, before we continue, what year are you from? "

" You _know_ about the time-travel? " Chris marveled, spying a free seat nearby. Well, he _was _awfully tired of running around...what harm could it do to rest for a few minutes? He went over and plopped in the chair, drawing Jill and Claire to clone the motion in the two seats on either side of him.

" We're from 2004." Jill answered, exhausted.

" 2004? That seems like eons ago. This is 2010. You have a lot to catch up on. I had a feeling someone might be coming, but I didn't know who exactly to expect." Glancing around the room, Alexandra's gaze fell on an end-table off to the side. As her company watched, she set the candleholder down and pulled said table into the center of the room until it was right in front of them. Next she sat the candleholder atop and pulled up a seat alongside the makeshift light-table before at last sitting down.

Her actions had not went unnoticed by Sultan. With a contented chuff, he lay down next to her side, side heaving up and down rythmatically, completely in Heaven.

There. Now the stage was set.

Alexandra folded her arms across her lap and blew a stand of golden hair out of her face before continuing. " There is much to discuss. I will be happy to share what information I can with you."

" Alright. How did you know we were from the past? " Chris asked, creeped out by this fact, even if it was in a good way. He reached a sweaty hand over and lightly patted Jill's hair in a comforting gesture. The less-than-ecstatic redhead leaned over in her seat and snuggled into him, taking comfort where she could. Claire reclined in her chair, tucking both legs up under her in Indian-fashion while she waited anxiously to hear what was sure to be fascinating news.

They were all tired.

Claire especially was effected, being three months pregnant and thus extra-weakened. Boy, what she wouldn't give for a nap. If this turned out to be a safe enough place, she saw no reason the others wouldn't object to just an hour or two of shut-eye. Who knew? Maybe lightning would strike and Alexandra would know where to find a piece of the Hylen. It could happen. For just once in their lives, Lady Luck could decide to deal them a good hand.

Jill made herself comfortable against Chris's shoulder. All that had happened was just too fantastic to believe...why not? At this point she didn't care, all she wanted was to get in, get the Hylen piece, and get back out. _I wish this wasn't the future_, She complained silently, _If it were the past, perhaps I could have done something to save Crystal._

Crystal.

Such a cruel twist of fate she'd died so young, and here Jill finally got a chance to travel in time, to possibly change something, and--_BAM!--_here she was stuck in a cold future miles away from home. As if that weren't already enough weight on their shoulders, even if they _did_ get all the Hylen pieces together there was still Veronica to contend with. It was just too much.

For just once, couldn't crisises stop happening all the time? _At this rate I'll be dead before I'm thirty-five. Which isn't all that far off. _Such a dismal thought.

Alexandra's face fell. Whatever she was about to say, she didn't appear happy to be saying it. She just stared down at the floor and shook her head slowly. " The reason I know is because..." She finally looked up, pinned Chris's gaze, " In this time, none of you are..." the words stuck in her throat, and it was with difficulty that she forced them out, " ...alive." She hung her head sadly, and it was touching how genuine the emotion was.

Chris looked away, suddenly feeling very sick. " I see. Alexandra, what happened? What city is this, and how did things get to be...this bad? "

" And while we're at it," Claire shivered, " Where are the other Ashfords? "

Alexandra was on the verge of tears. When she spoke, her voice was torn with sadness, " The other Ashfords are dead. I am all that remains of that family."

" Even Veronica?! " Jill's voice carried a high note of surprise. If Veronica was dead then that would mean they had won the battle on Majika Island. That was a _good _thing, wasn't it? So why did this city look like the biblical battle of Armageddon had taken place in it?

Alexandra bit her lower lip, eyes moistening with unspent tears. " I don't know what happened to Veronica. All I know is that I have neither seen nor heard from her for years. There are rumors...some claim she is alive, others insist otherwise. Either way, she is the least of our problems at the moment. Listen, and I shall tell you a story." She paused briefly to draw breath before continuing, " Not many years ago, in the summer of 2005, all Hell broke loose. The competition between Umbrella and HCF escalated to a all-time dangerous level, one which led them to engage in what we now like to call _'The Viral Wars'_. During this time, they proceeded to unleash countless bio-weapons and viruses. At first the attacks were only on rival bases. You know, the we-attack-Umbrella-Umbrella attacks-us kind of deal. But as you can guess, things quickly got out of control. Monsters and infected victims escaped into neighboring cities and in doing so spread the T and G viruses at an alarming rate from town to town. As if that were not already bad enough, at around the same time HCF operatives came out with the deadly X-virus. Similar to the G-virus, this soon became the most deadly of them all as it could remain potent for days transmitted through wind and water. Like the Bubonic Plague, this new virus moved very quickly. By the time the President realized it was a national emergency entire cities were overrun with whole states well on their way. In an attempt to try and stop the spread, the U.S. military bombed as many of these known infected cities as they could off the map--even going as far as to massacre any suspected carriers-- but it wasn't enough. The viruses spread unchecked throughout North America like wildfire, and thanks to airplanes and ships it wasn't long before they reached Europe. Within two years there were outbreaks all over the world; way too many for the planet's armed forces to deal with. Within three years, civilization as we knew it effectively ceased to exist. Believe it or not, this was once Salem Oregon, the capitol city teaming with people. Now it's this...this wasteland." She shook her head helplessly, gazing into the candle flames as she spoke.

" _What?! _The entire _world_ is overrun?! " Chris gasped, " Impossible! No virus can spread that fast! "

" X-virus could." Alexandra supplied gently, " It killed probably three billion people all by itself. Victims got violently sick and died within a day of contracting it. Thankfully they didn't mutate into the living dead, but that's the only redeeming quality about it. It was highly contagious, but only to humans and dogs. It was especially brutal in the third-world countries where tons of people lived in such close proximity to each other. Eventually it died out when it killed so many victims that there was no one left alive to pass it on. All cities for miles around are like this one. Thanks to X-virus paving the way, T and G viruses were able to spread unchecked."

" That's awful." Jill sighed.

" Terrible." Alexandra agreed, " And that's not even the worst. Thanks to the viruses running rampant, all kinds of strange and deadly creatures began cropping up all over. I don't even know about half of what's out there. It hardly needs said that none of these beasts appears to be friendly. Bio-weapons rule the world now, preying on the few humans and animals that still exist." She paused again, let the information sink in. When no one offered an immediate response...perhaps they couldn't...she continued. " This city once housed a R.A.I.N. base, and it was here that I worked hard with other scientists to come up with vaccinations and cures. I was able to develop both to a better degree for the T-virus and a vaccination for the G-virus using some of the anti-disease properties of my own virus...."

However, the shell-shocked S.T.A.R.S. were barely listening. It was a lot to absorb, and damn, it was just too _morbid _to be true.

" What happened to the others? " Chris inquired, not caring that he was cutting Alexandra off mid-sentence, " I mean, the rest of the Bayview S.T.A.R.S. and people we know. Did _anyone _survive? Steve? Carlos? Rebecca? Sherry? How about my son Seth? "

Alexandra's frown deepened. God, she hated being the harbinger of such awful news, but it had to be said. " Sorry. Everyone you mentioned is dead, save one. Carlos is still alive, but he's insane. And I don't mean a _little_ insane, I mean completely speaks-no-coherent-sentences insane. A scouting-team and I found him barricaded up in an apartment building in this very city about four months ago. When we found him, he was huddled in a tight ball sitting over in a corner next to Rebecca's body, rocking back and forth babbling gibberish that didn't make sense. Poor guy looked like he hadn't bathed, slept, or eaten in days. When we tried to offer help and asked what had happened, he went completely psycho and tried to attack us. I sedated him and brought him back here where we treated him. In the meantime we gave Rebecca a proper funeral. He's made little improvement these past few months, and even though he won't verify it we suspect he and Rebecca were on their way here to find us when something really traumatic happened. He's here right now. I could take you to him, but I'm warning you right now he probably won't recognize you."

Both girls looked to Chris. He was the leader, it was up to him to decide the best course of action for all involved. That, plus the fact that they were both feeling tired and drained, made him the unanimous choice. Moving....or talking, was just too much effort. Claire in particular was enjoying the much-needed rest. Chris let his gaze wander to her, and she pleaded with her eyes to stay there.

_Can't blame 'em. We do need a bit of a rest. _No, now was not the time to be moving. Rest awhile. Learn more. They were going to have enough to deal with as it was once they got that blasted Hylen piece back to the present.

Or past, however you wanted to look at it.

And once they did that...Chris was no fool. If she was anything like Alexia, Veronica Ashford wasn't just going to stand idly by and let him and the others trounce her. No, she was going to put up a fight, and if Angelique's little speech was anything at all to go by then taking her down wasn't going to be any easier than facing both Wesker and mutated Alexia working together by himself in a confining room with only a pocket knife.

_Er....for that, we can wait. No sense in rushing to our painful deaths. _" Eh, that's alright." The overwhelmed S.T.A.R.S. leader sighed, looking Alexandra over up and down like he expected her to mutate at any moment, " Maybe in a minute we've..." ...._been through Hell and back, and this future makes me want to commit suicide_... " We've been through a lot lately, and we need a little bit of time to recuperate."

" I understand." Alexandra said melodically, her voice barely above a whisper. While seeing her old friends alive and well again brought her great joy, it was also a haunting reminder of what had originally happened to them. It was having quite a profound effect on her, really. A blast from the past.

Chris, Jill, Claire...she studied each in turn, almost-forgotten memories stirring inside. They looked so haggard and worn. It hurt her to see them like this, hurt her to imagine the emotional hell they must be going through realizing that their world was lost.

Some future they had to look forward to. _It isn't right. Then again, what about this world ever truly is?_

" Alexandra? "

" Hmm? " The blonde-haired scientist looked up, as if from awakened from dream. They shouldn't have to see this....

" What _happened _to us? How did...how did we die? " Chris's tone was bleak and morbid, matching the expression on his far-too-pale face. He really looked like he'd been through it all. His uniform was ripped and places and stained here and there with blood and mud; his dark brown hair matted and messy. His eyes were devoid of any happiness...maybe even hope.

Alexandra turned her head to the side, shying away from the saddened gaze of the man who was once one of her mother's most loathed enemies, and instead pretended to be interested in the bland off-white of the far wall.

It was a lame attempt to mask her emotions, and she knew it.

" Your...deaths? Are you sure you want to know? Such a morbid topic for discussion. Those memories bring me no pleasure."

" I would hope not." Claire forced a faint smile, " I remember you from Africa. You were such a sweet little girl. Alexis misses you."

" Alexis..." A single tear swelled in the corner of the young scientist's eye. That memory was one of the saddest. The tear rolled down the soft white of her cheek and fell to the floor; one more drop in an ocean of sorrow_. So many deaths...so much suffering..._

The action had not gone unnoticed by the S.T.A.R.S. in her company. Claire looked away. It wasn't her fault, but she couldn't help but to feel something of guilt for bringing up what was obviously a hard subject for the young Ashford.

" That's okay." Chris offered immediately, leaving Alexandra a way out, " You don't have to tell us if it's too painful."

Alexandra shook her head slowly. Then she poked a finger into one of the red-orange-and-white flames of a candle, causing her company to jolt back in reflex.

" That's alright, my friends. I suppose one can't help but to be curious. It's human nature." Her voice came a little stronger now, less nasal. She allowed the tip of her finger to catch on fire before at last drawing it back and holding it before her face. Twin flames danced in the serene liquid blue of her eyes. " We're a very curious species."

As the others watched, she took the flaming digit and folded it along with the others into a fist. When the fist opened it was to reveal completely uncharred skin. Alexandra looked up, receiving six anxious eyes with a hollowed, grave expression. This was going to be a little hard, but they had asked and they deserved to know. If situations were reversed, she'd want to know. _God, I hate this._

Drawing a deep breath, she started, " You all learned of the threat ahead of time and for almost a whole year managed to evade it. During that time you fought valiantly and made a strong effort to take down the companies responsible and look for ways to counteract the viruses. You saved a lot of people. If it weren't for you the death toll would have been much higher. You kept moving around, but eventually the viruses and their carriers caught up with you. Sherry died first: direct exposure to the X-virus. She suffered for less than twenty-four hours before her death. After her, it was you, Claire, and Melissa."

Claire's jaw dropped. **_Melissa_**?! That must mean that I'm...it's a girl! I'm carrying a girl! Wait, she dies too?! No! We can't let this happen! There has to be some way to avoid this! There **has** to be!

" Melissa?! " She couldn't help but to try out her daughter's name, speak it for the first time. Unconsciously, she gave her stomach a gentle pat.

Alexandra nodded gravely. " Yes." Her eyes settled on Claire. " You are pregnant still with her."

" Congratulations, it's a girl." Chris said with as much cheer as he could muster. Suffice to say, this wasn't much. What should have been a heartfelt tiding of joy to his sister and unborn niece came out sounding stale and unenthused.

He really _was_ happy for her, but knowing both mother and child were destined to die in two years along with himself and the biggest portion of people he knew slash cared about did take the shine off it.

What was the point? What was the point in going on if this was how it all turned out?

Carlos insane. Alan off the deep end. Everyone else dead. Was this the future they had to look forward to? Was this the world they were trying to save?

Even more important, was this a world _worth_ saving?

Compared to this, maybe Veronica's world wouldn't be so bad after all.

Jill acknowledged this news with a slight nod. Beyond that, she couldn't even pretend to smile. Couldn't even fathom the thought of feeling anything but extreme grief and despair. _So Claire's going to have a little girl. So what? She'll just die like mine did. It doesn't matter. What we did before...what we're doing now...none of it matters. You can't change what's been done. If you're losing the game, you can't just start up a new one. It doesn't work that way. There's no silver lining to **this** cloud._

" Please. Go on." The redhead prodded, opting to keep her inner feelings personal. For better or for worse, she just had to know what had happened. Perhaps Alexandra was right. Humans _were_ a rather inquisitive species, even when it would e better if they weren't.

" I wasn't there, obviously, so some of the next that I am about to tell you could have happened slightly differently, I don't know. I heard it through other...sources. When Claire and Melissa caught the X-virus, Alan was the first on the scene. By that time Melissa was already gone but Claire still had a few hours left to live..."

" _Alan_." Chris cut in, his voice reduced to a feral, low growl, " What is _wrong _with him? I swear, he tried to kill me a little bit ago."

" Yeah," Claire agreed, piecing the puzzle together, " And on the way here Celia mentioned something about the Weskers..."

" Please! Just let her finish the story! " Jill snapped, tired of all the interruptions and chronic depression doing it's dirty work on her tact, " I'm sure she'll get to that. Right? "

" Yes." Alexandra agreed solemnly, " I'll get to that. Anyway, Alan was the first to arrive. It is important to understand that back then the X-virus had no cure, and no one has _ever_ recovered from it. Claire was in terrible pain. After placing her final requests and goodbyes with him, she begged Alan to break her neck and cease her suffering, to which he complied. "

" Alan _killed _me?! " Claire gasped, shocked.

" He didn't want to." Alexandra replied softly, like a mother soothing her children after a bad dream, " I wasn't personally there, but the X-virus is some nasty stuff. Everyone I've ever seen contract it never wanted to live out the full twenty to twenty-four hours. That's how much you suffer. What Alan did was a mercy killing at your own request to spare you the last few hours of torment. I don't blame him for that. As I was saying, he knew the X-virus was highly contagious, though the T-2 virus made him immune to it. Unfortunately, the rest of the S.T.A.R.S. chose that moment to come home and knew immediately that something was up." Caribbean blue eyes played on Chris's, giving him an all-around bad feeling about Alexandra's next words. " Alan tried to reason with you, but you wouldn't listen. He was forced to knock you and Steve unconscious and load you both up in the van to prevent you from going into that room and sharing the same fate. Jill and the others allowed him temporary command and after gathering everyone up you all fled the city. Not long after that, Steve died. The details there are kinda fuzzy, but from what I gather of it one of the underground tunnels he and other refugees were hiding in to escape a city the air force was bombing collapsed in unexpectedly from the aftershocks. Jill..."

Alexandra turned away, set her sights on a sleeping Sultan. This definitely makes the list of the top ten things I never want to do again. " Jill, you were killed by a hunter...or a group of hunters...details kinda foggy in that department as well. Really tore Chris up."

" It would." Chris admitted, snuggling a little closer into his wife as if she were something that was slipping away. His face was pained, haunted. All of his family dead. All of them... " What happened to everyone after that? "

Alexandra leaned forward on the table, but rather than to Chris her eyes were now on the floor. She bowed her head. " That's...that's where things get the most muddled. Like I said, I spent most of the time just trying to survive with my family, moving from place to place. A very severe outbreak of the X-virus caught us unprepared in South Dakota, and, as you can imagine, my brother and father didn't survive it. After all the contagious areas we traveled through...put it this way, if it weren't for Mother and I having the T-Veronica virus, I wouldn't be here talking to you right now. The city we'd been occupying at the time had became surrounded on all sides by infection. Clearly a miscalculation." She shook her head, fought back the tears, " It wasn't until seven months ago that I found Alan. Alone. He was completely different than I'd remembered. Nastier. Colder. He's the one who informed me about the S.T.A.R.S.. But when I asked about my sister he...he completely came unglued. He started yelling, saying that Alexis was dead and that it was all Chris's fault. I couldn't even get him to tell me _what _had happened, much less why it was Chris's fault. I tried to calm him down, tried to reason with him, but then Wesker showed up and I learned _your_ fate." 

There was no mistaking that the word _'your' _was directed at Chris.

_Damn. _Chris felt a lump rise uncomfortably in his throat, swallowed. His own death. He was about to be told how he would die, and for some terrible reason he had a strong feeling it had something to do with Alan.

" Let me guess: Wesker killed me? " There was a tinge of hope in his voice. Much as he was starting to despise his 'nephew', a part of him still clung to the hope...still desperately wanted to believe that Alan wouldn't do something like that.

Alexandra blinked. " Why, yes. I guess that would be pretty obvious. But he didn't do it alone. Chris..." she had to force the words out, " I don't know for sure what happened. All I know for fact is that Alan blamed--still blames--you for Alexis's death. You never stood a chance against both of them. They...I...I get the impression they tortured you before they killed you. Both Wesker _and_ Alan. I'm sorry...but the Alan you knew is no longer with us. He's lost his conscience, and at least part of his mind, too, from the looks of it. He's just like Wesker now---even worse on some level because he's good at fooling people into thinking he still cares whereas Wesker's always been more straightforward. He's too fargone...if he were to see all of you here, now, I honestly don't think he'd hesitate to kill every one of you. Old friends don't seem to mean anything to him anymore. Alan, Spade, and Wesker are among the biggest reasons we have to be so careful around here. After the world was more or less overrun the three of them used the ensuing chaos to take over; three separate rulers sharing a wide kingdom. Wesker runs Acid Rain. HCF answers to Alan. Umbrella to Spade. They get by pretty well, thanks to their virus and unity against any powerful enough to challenge them.

" Hold on, Spade has the T-2 virus? " Claire inferred.

" When did _this_ happen? " Chris added.

Alexandra's lips twisted into a crooked line. " Spade has the T-2 virus. She's almost as powerful as Wesker and Alan, but not quite. I'm not sure when it happened, but logic points to Wesker giving it to her shortly after the viruses began to spread in order to protect her. Whatever the case, the Weskers staked little 'territories' around here for the time being, and I hate to say it but this city--Salem--is right in the hotspot where all three 'borders' overlap. We have Spade to the South, Wesker to the Northeast, and Alan to the Northwest. Lately they've been coming dangerously close...I think they suspect something may be up here and that's why they've been hanging around. We would move but...it's too dangerous. An attempt to do so would be forfeiting the lives of nearly everyone here, and that's not a sacrifice I'm willing to make. Right now we're kind of stuck playing a waiting game to see if one or more of the Weskers won't move off and give us a chance to escape."

" But that doesn't make any sense! " Chris shouted out of frustration, perhaps a bit too loudly.

Sultan woke up and lifted his head with a start, wild amber eyes focused readily on the source which had disturbed him.

Alexandra reached down and patted him on the head. " Shh. It's okay."

" Why would the Weskers care about a bunch of injured and sick refugees? "

" They don't believe the weak are fit to survive in this world."

" So they'd _kill_ them?! " Jill was appalled.

Alexandra shrugged helplessly. " Maybe, maybe not. It's risky. But even if they did let these people go, they'd _definitely _kill me. I can't let that happen. These people _need_ me."

" By _'these people'_, you mean the other survivors, right? "

Alexandra stood up, prompting Sultan to his feet. " Yes. Follow me, I have something to show you." She spared a moment to blow out all of the candles, plunging the room into almost total blackness.

" Alrighty then." With a bit of effort--he had to confess the idea of leaving the chair was not one which held much appeal--Chris rose and followed woman and tiger down the hall, Jill and Claire close behind.

" We have to keep it dark in here," The good doctor explained without turning back, " We don't want anyone--human or non--to think this building's occupied."

" Oh." Claire said. Suddenly turning the lights out didn't sound like such a bad idea after all. Smart.

" The Weskers and most virus-carriers bar zombies have excellent sight, which is why we try to avoid too much activity near windows. The T-2 carriers in particular have an extraordinary sense of hearing, so we talk in low voices and let the moans and howls of the undead do the rest to cover for us."

" Sounds like you've really thought this out." Chris mused, a little impressed at Alexandra's careful attention to details.

" We had to. Around here, being careful is the key. We even have a saying: ' The man among us who does not sneak, will not live throughout the week.' Sad but true. We live by a harsh set of facts. Here." Not halfway down the almost pitch-black hall, Alexandra stopped by the dark silhouette of an elevator. A press of a button, and the automatic doors swung open. " Going down. Please be my guests." In true hostess's fashion, the courteous scientist extended a hand and gestured for her company to step in first.

Well, second anyway. Sultan had already dashed in and made himself secure against one corner. From the looks of it this was a ride he'd taken many times.

" Thanks." Chris gushed, going in.

Jill was next. She strode in to stand by Chris without even giving Alexandra a second look.

Claire was last. " Wow. You're not like an Ashford at all." She marveled, stunned by the sheer politeness the T-Veronica carrier was showing. She took her place at her friends' sides.

Inside the elevator was light, and Alexandra couldn't resist a tiny smile as she stepped in and hit the 'B' button. Chris, Jill, and Claire were all in a tight clump in one side of the elevator while Sultan had the other end all to himself. It was kinda comical, really. Even tame tigers could have that effect on people.

" Thank you." She straightened her labcoat, " I've been trying to redeem my family's name."

Claire managed the ghost of a smile. This may be a bleak future, but it was comforting to know that benign people like Alexandra somehow, someway, despite all that had happened and all the negativity they must endure, still existed. Keeping a positive outlook in such trying circumstances had to take real inner strength. How Alexandra managed to pull it off so well, she didn't know. But it was refreshing and extremely nice to see.

" You're doing a very good job of it."

" Just got to take things one day at a time. The Weskers are our biggest concern at the moment. One is bad enough, but if you get all three together they're...well, I don't like to use the word _invincible_, but they're pretty close to it. They..." This time Alexandra couldn't help it. Her voice trembled, cracked a bit, and her lower lip quivered, " They killed my mother."

_Great! Did she **stay** dead this time? _Chris rejoiced inside. He didn't dare say that aloud. Alexia may have been an evil psycho-bitch, and she deserved a slow, painful death being eaten alive by the ants she liked so much, but her passing had obviously hurt Alexandra.

He couldn't see why--Alexia probably wouldn't have shed so much as a single tear over any of her offsprings' deaths, yet Alexandra mourned her death as deeply as any daughter would her mother.

Either Alexia had turned a new leaf over the past six years, or else Alexandra was insanely benevolent and forgiving. It seemed almost unreal.

In fact, if the three misplaced S.T.A.R.S. members had been polled right then they would all have agreed that Alexandra Ashford was the single nicest person they'd ever met in their entire lives. Bar none.

_How does she **do **it? _Perhaps the T-Veronica virus wasn't the only weird thing floating around in her blood...had Alexia tampered with her DNA perhaps? Somehow bio-engineered her to be that way, either intentionally or by accident? And if so, just what chemicals and genes determined a person's temperament anyway? It seemed a unique personality would be more linked to the soul and the individual, not genetics.

The again, who really knew for one hundred percent anyway? It baffled the mind.

The end of the elevator's decent was heralded by a shrill metallic 'ding'. Alexandra stepped out lightly into a cool dimly-lit corridor composed of dull white tiles.

Even though she hated the Alexia and the other Ashfords--save Alexis, of course--with a passion, Claire couldn't help but to feel sorry for the young scientist. Evil or not, you had only to watch her to know her family had meant a lot to her. How she could love them was unimportant. _The important thing is...I know what it's like to lose a family member. _ Once they were all out, she laid a hand on their blonde-haired hostess's shoulder.

Alexandra turned around slowly, her expression sad but caring. She didn't say anything, She didn't need to. The saltwater welling up in the corners of her eyes spoke volumes on it's own.

_God, she really does care. _" That must have been horrible, losing your family like that. I know I'd be devastated if anything ever happened to mine."

Chris and Jill stopped, sharing in the sadness that seemed to be the center of life in this miserable time. Normally hearing about Alexia's death would have been cause for celebration, but seeing Alexandra so shaken up over it robbed them of that joy. For a moment, just a moment, it felt like Alexia wasn't all that bad after all.

" It happened only two months ago." Alexandra went on, as if in a dream. She hadn't been asked, but somehow it just felt right to reflect on what had happened, to try and make peace with it. It was a very vivid memory; each day it replayed over and over in her head, one of a million memories she didn't want that came back to haunt her. " Mom and I had only been in this city for a week, and I'd just discovered a pocket of survivors that needed help..."

" And Alexia was _okay _with this? " Chris couldn't help but to wonder. Inconceivable that Alexia could _ever _care about the common person.

Alexandra shook her head. " Well, she didn't _love_ it, but over the years I think she'd gotten used to my habits and even halfway accepted them on some level. After Dad and Ash died, our bonds strengthened...for a little while. When I got older she grew very jealous of me because she believed I had surpassed her both in intellectual prowess and physical strength."

" Was that true? " Jill wondered, surprising everyone by speaking up for the first time in several minutes.

Alexandra did not look happy. " Yes. It was. I don't like to talk about it--makes me feel all guilty--but Mom was right. When I was the equivalent of '13' I was already her intellectual equal, and at '15' I surpassed her. That was also the time my virus fully awakened and I inherited all kinds of new powers. In a fit of rage, Mom tried to kill me once, but by then I was too strong and she was forced to concede. I tried to talk some sense into her, but you can't reason with an unreasonable person. For a long time after that I thought she hated me. Still, she stood her ground and kept me in her life, constantly undermining everything I said or did. I could never figure out why she wanted to keep hanging around me like that when we were as different as night and day. But looking back on it now, I think I know."

" Why? "

" Mom was..." Alexandra's eyes flitted back up, golden lashes damp with moisture, " ...to be completely honest, I think she was afraid to be alone. I was familiar, I was the last tie she had to the life she'd lost. True, she was constantly berating me, putting me down, and killing my pets. She didn't agree with my views on the world _at all_, even when I sat her down explained them until I was blue in the face. I tried and tried, but she refused to open up to me. We used to get into arguments all the time about humanity and love versus power and ambition, but she eventually stopped when she found I could argue her to the ground every single time. Deep down, I think she finally _realized_ that completely dominating the human race and making yourself a 'Queen Ant' was a completely unrealistic goal and more than a little selfish."

At this she smiled a bit, reaching up with one hand to lightly massage her temple. The she actually pulled off a dry laugh, " Mom always did have a superiority complex the size of China. I used to joke with her about it." The smile slipped, " At least, I tried to. Half the time she took me seriously. I swear, her sense of humor was seriously messed up. She laughed over the most inappropriate things. Anyway, to skim the cream here, I think Mom _wanted_ to hate me, but couldn't. And the fact that she _couldn't_ only bothered her more. Whenever I helped someone or did my part to try and make the world a better place, she'd grumble and growl about how I was wasting my time with 'worthless peons' and how, if only I'd help, we could create a society together and rule it. People should _fear_ us, she said. I disagreed, but she never really gave up trying. I think at the end though I may have gotten through at least a little. When I found the survivors, Mom ranted and raved over and over about how foolish I was being to the point where it reminded me of a little kid throwing a temper tantrum. She smashed things. She yelled. She glowed her eyes and unleashed a verbal hurricane of abuse that I guess was meant to offend me, but secretly made me crack up inside. Yet she didn't dare make a move to stop me or hurt a single person there. After she stormed off I had to apologize to my new friends for her brash behavior, and that's when I discovered this hospital was actually a secret R.A.I.N. base, and they were more than happy to share. I didn't see her again until after a few days later when she found me out and about rounding up food and followed me back. I made her promise not to hurt anyone, and to my surprise she agreed and made herself at home in the labs here. Sadly, I could never trust her and constantly had to check in and see what she was up to, but she seemed to have...mellowed out some. I did love her and care about her, even if I did believe she was a homicidal megalomaniac who would probably kill me if given half the chance. I mean, she was my _mother_. I couldn't forgive the things she'd done, but at the same time I couldn't _condemn_ her. "

" Understandable." Chris relented. He still hated Alexia's guts. But in all fairness, she wasn't his mother.

Alexandra continued; " Knowing she was a great scientist and how much she loved virology, I tried to get her to help me and R.A.I.N. work on a vaccine against the X-virus, but she only laughed in my face and said: '_You're so smart, **you** make a vaccine against the X-virus._' Don't see what the big deal was. I was only trying to give her a productive hobby that didn't involve mutilating animals behind my back. Anyway, I realize it's much too late to make a long story short now, and I've rambled on a bit more than I thought I would. Sorry."

Claire was understanding. " It's alright. We can all be ramblers sometimes." Her lips tugged up in the faintest stages of a smile, " Plus I enjoyed hearing it. Kinda makes Alexia seem like she wasn't completely evil after all."

" Oh, she was evil alright. No mistake about that. She just found herself in a situation where she couldn't act on her impulses. And the wonderful thing is, _I_ didn't put her there. The fact that she was willing to make a sacrifice in order to stay around me even though she didn't really like me makes me believe she _did _have a spark of light in her, however diminished. If she had lived, perhaps over time I could have gotten her to be a better person. Or at least gotten her on the _right track _to being a better person." She shivered involuntarily, took in the faces of the people around her.

Determined and overbearing Chris. Strong and emotional Jill. Optimistic if not a bit naïve Claire. All here. All talking to her in the here and now. Tired and deeply depressed they may be, but seeing them alive again...it felt like they were back from the dead. Just being able to talk to them again was surreal. So much that had been left unsaid, then to discover the grisly truth from the recently evil Alan...it had been quite the unfortunate turn of events. Now...now it felt almost like they'd been given a second chance to get things right. She put a hand over Claire's and gave it a tender squeeze. A quick sparkle of something wonderful crossed her eyes, and this time she did actually smile.

" Thank you. I needed that."

_Wow. _Claire blushed a bit, drew back her hand. " No problem."

Alexandra nodded. " Feelings entirely mutual, my friend. Anyway, to conclude this little history tidbit, my mother went outside about eight weeks ago unannounced to do...something. I'm not really sure what. One of my friends saw her leave, so as quick as I got back from my daily rounds he told me. Hoping for the best, but fearing she may be up to no good, Sultan and I scouted the city. When we found her, a behemoth monster easily the size of four bull elephants had her trapped amidst the rubble of some buildings. She was in first form, but she clearly didn't have time to upgrade and was losing. I shifted to my second form, which is my most powerful, and rushed to her aid. I was just in time. While the monster was busy with me, Mom attacked it from it's blind side and together we were able to defeat it. But Mom was injured. She made it out of the rubble okay, I resumed human form, and we were on our way back to the hospital when we were suddenly surrounded by all three Weskers. We never saw them coming. I got blind-sided by Spade before I could even register what was happening and ended up knocked fifty feet into a crowd of zombies. I easily overpowered them, but I was too late to save my mother. The monster had weakened her worse than I thought and she couldn't survive a physical assault by both Wesker and Alan. I'll save you the graphics and just say that it was very messy, especially with the knife-like clawblade things the trio wear now. It's Wolverine meets the Flash with a bit of the Hulk's strength thrown in. Even they seemed surprised to have beaten her so easily. I quickly shifted to second form, put on a light show to distract them, dived in, grabbed my mother, and flew out. That was about all I could do. Later I held a little funeral and buried Mom--Alexia--out in the same park Rebecca's body now rests in." She shook her head slightly, pained, " It's never easy saying goodbye."

" That is awfully sad." Chris forced himself to say, even if he didn't really feel that way one hundred percent, " I just...I mean...wow. All she's been through, you'd think Alexia would have....I mean, that's a little...quick."

" I know. I think she could have held on longer if she'd really wanted it. The sad truth is....I think she wanted to die. During the end there, she seemed so...detached. The last few days before her death she was very silent and indifferent to everything and everyone around her. That's not like her. Usually she'd verbally attack people---usually the R.A.I.N. scientists--and try to make them feel inferior. She may have been evil, but I cried for her. I think Dad and Ash's deaths cut her deeper than she would admit. I guess what it all boils down to is: no one ever truly wants to be utterly alone. Even insane evil geniuses. That kind of isolation catches up with you after awhile, guts you from the inside out. All those years...perhaps near the end Mom's superiority complex was the only thing holding her together. Her main focus in life was being better than everyone around her, so I guess when I finally surpassed her it crushed her spirits, destroyed her sense of purpose. And with no one she felt she could confide in she sort of...slipped into a major depression. One from which she never recovered. At least, that's what I think."

" It makes sense." Claire reasoned, " I personally thought she was an insane evil bitch who needed to be put down for crimes against humanity, but now that I think about it, yeah. She did seem awfully close to Alfred."

" Loneliness is a terrible thing." Jill agreed, leaning her back against the wall and staring deep into the reflective surface of the tile beneath her. " I guess even evil people experience the same range of emotions we do. Happiness. Pride. Anger. Hurt. Hope. Frustration. Actually, they're really not worlds different than us. Just heartless killers."

" True." Alexandra agreed, " They experience less of the positive forces and detach themselves from everyone else. Think about it: the root of all evil is selfishness."

_Come to think of it, yeah. _Jill thought, _Wesker killed Crystal because of a personal vendetta against Chris and I. Very selfish reasons. The creators of the T-virus only had their own personal gain in mind. Be the best at this, make the most money at that, blah blah blah. Oh, I'll kill half a million people if it'll get me enough money to buy a nice little strip of property along the California beach and buy that brand new Lamborghini I've been wanting. Or this is how I **think** it should be. Selfish._

Chris's thought processes were apparently on the same level as Claire's, because his next words were, " Yeah. Come to think of it, when do you ever see the words 'unselfish' or 'empathetic' used to describe any criminal? Big difference between the guy who short-changes Grandma at the filling station and the guy who, say, murders half a thousand people for the benefit of a scientific breakthrough, but when you get right down to it, selfishness in one form or another is the fuel behind the deed."

" Exactly." Alexandra stated, pleased to have gotten the point across. _Mother understood this, I just couldn't get her to understand **why** being selfish was such a bad thing. And...as usual, you've been the cause of another rambling-session Alexandra. Congratulations. _ She mentally scolded herself, _Get back on track here. You have a job to do you know._

" That was a nice little conversation and, dare I say, a bit philosophical, but I'm afraid I got off-track. Follow me."

" Sure." Claire replied spontaneously. She and Chris were right behind, following Alexandra to this thing she wanted them to see, whatever it was.

Jill answered with a shrug of her shoulders and a slow, unhurried gait a few feet behind the main cluster. Sometime during the course of the conversation, Sultan had slipped out from the elevator and now he was nowhere to be seen. Probably nothing important, she decided. Obviously the cat had gotten bored and decided to go elsewhere.

Luckily Alexandra's destination was not far. All throughout the conversation the S.T.A.R.S. had been hearing muffled talking, just like upstairs earlier. Just a little ways down the hall they came to an unmarked iron door on the right. The voices were coming strongly from the other side. Alexandra opened the door, and a flood of light poured out into the dim hallway.

Inside was a well-lit room, rectangular in shape and lined to either wall with single rows of patients in hospital beds. There were a number of people in white labcoats scattered around: attending patients, reading charts, manning equipment, and offering words of encouragement to the worried friends and family of the crucially ill. They all looked up when their head scientist walked in.

" Alex! How's it been? " One man, a young black guy dressed in plain street clothes greeted, then paused. His eyes were now glued on the unexpected visitors trailing behind. " Who's..."

" Easy there, Martin. These are my friends, Claire, Chris, and Jill." She stopped and rounded on the trio with a smile, " Claire, Chris, Jill, meet Martin. He's on one of the Outer-Missions units, which means he goes out regularly to check for other survivors and gather essentials. It's a risky job."

The S.T.A.R.S. members nodded a greeting.

" Hi." Claire waved a few fingers.

Martin's face brightened. " So good to see new faces! For awhile I was worried things were in worse shape than we'd previously thought. Used to be meeting new people wasn't such a big deal. Now it's like, a miracle or something."

" Yeah, well it used to be the world wasn't overrun with monsters." Chris added wryly.

Alexandra cast him a forlorn look. " You speak of better times. We all wish that world back."

" I know I do." Martin agreed absently before turning back to the stack of papers he'd been reviewing prior to the meeting, " I would stay and chat but...uh...duty calls. Sorry. Perhaps another time? "

" Of course." Claire answered. She found her attention wandering around the room, taking in each of the people there. There had to be at least fifty in here. The majority were in hospital beds. Those who weren't were taking their temperatures, administering shots, reading gauges--normal doctor-y stuff. Except that most of these labcoat-clad _doctors_ had the R.A.I.N. logo sewn neatly onto their clothing with blue thread.

_R.A.I.N. stands for Rational Advancements In Nature, _Claire reminded herself, _Kinda like a smarter, friendlier Umbrella. _Her heart rested easier. She remembered coming across a bunch of documents pertaining to R.A.I.N. back in the African Umbrella base. They were the good guys: a collection of some of the smartest people in the world all dedicated to helping humanity from better ways to grow and engineer crops to working on cures to cancer and Umbrella's viruses.

Speaking of which, seemed they'd had a cure for everything except the T-2 last she'd checked. Which could only be good. That was the biggest reason Umbrella and HCF despised them so much.

Come to think of it, she was fairly sure R.A.I.N. competed with Umbrella on the sales floor as well. They were into pharmaceuticals too. Or at least behaved that way.

Sure felt refreshing to be surrounded by friends.

Meanwhile, Jill was making her own observations. She couldn't help but noticing a lot of the people in the beds were children. _Which stands to reason. They're the most vulnerable._

Again, the image of Crystal surged up in her mind.

Again, she forced it back, tried to suppress it.

Didn't work.

__

There has to be a way to get her back. Alfred and Alexia both died, and now they're up and walking around like it never happened. And Alexia was IN PIECES! _If scum like **them**_ _can come back, why not Crystal? _ A faint voice tingled at the back of Jill's brain. A small demon, one she hated herself for acknowledging, but which existed just the same--constantly poisoning her thoughts--asked: _What about Veronica? She's an all-powerful sorceress immune to aging and other worldly things, perhaps she would have the power to resurrect Crystal. Yes, maybe I should look into that..._

" Jill? Jill! "

" Huh? Wha..." A light tug snapped her out of her daze.

Chris was there, his hand on her shoulder and concern playing along the edges of his mouth.

_What was I thinking? _She shoved his hand aside and straightened. " I'm okay."

Chris was skeptical. " Are you sure? You looked...zoned out. C'mon." He lead the way to Claire and Alexandra, who were already at the next bed.

A little boy...seven, maybe eight...was sitting upright amidst a sea of blue covers. His short, tasseled red hair was disheveled in true bed-head fashion, accenting the look of his white hospital gown. When he looked up and saw Alexandra standing over him, his green eyes sparkled with excitement.

" Ally! " He leaned over the metal railing of his bed to give her a hug, a task which was easened by the recipient kneeling over and taking him in her tender embrace. Elated, the boy buried his face into her, hugging her waist tightly.

" Ally! I'm so glad you're back! I drew a picture for you, want to see it? " He released his hold, and Alexandra gave him a kiss on the forehead before rising back up and straightening.

" Sure Dev. I'd love to see your picture."

Thrilled, Dev swirled around. As the S.T.A.R.S. crowded in to watch he lifted his pillow to reveal a little 'picture' rendered lovingly in blue crayon. Before anyone got a chance to see what it was, however, he was bouncing about wildly, thrusting it into Alexandra's face.

" Here! You like it? You like? "

" Alright then, what do we have here? " The T-Veronica scientist held the paper out in front of her so that everyone could get a full view.

The central figure was a down-turned pentagon, one strikingly similar in appearance to the Ashford crest. Only, instead of the infamous hawk grasping a haldberd, this 'crest' depicted a either a dog or a wolf sitting proudly with a single red rose held lovingly in it's mouth. The entire thing was blue, save the rose's red bud. It wasn't spectacular art, but it was pretty dang good for an eight year old.

" It's the new Ashford crest! " Dev blurted excitedly before anyone else had time to ask, " I was talking with Tem this morning and we both agreed you weren't like the other Ashfords we'd heard about, so then I said you needed a different family symbol, and he agreed. So I drew this." He reached out and tapped the dog, " See, it's a dog. Dogs are known for their loyalty. And the rose..." now he fingered the red bud, " means love, symbolizing your love for all of us. Everything else is blue for peace, purity, and loyalty. You know...true blue."

Alexandra's smile was as warm as fresh-baked cookies. " Aw, thank you! What a thoughtful gesture. I love it." She nodded energetically, " I'll hang it up in my room."

" Really? You really do? " Dev trilled, " Guess what? So did Tem! He said he was going to have a real one engraved in a special alloy just for you! "

_He's going to wha..._The blonde scientist actually blushed, her cheeks filling with the same rosy color of the flower in the drawing. _Aw, how darling! _She leaned forward and gave the little artist another hug, locks of golden hair spilling over her shoulders and brushing with his cheeks.

" It's wonderful. I'm very proud of you."

Dev giggled happily. Then Alexandra pulled away, paper still in hand. She displayed it regally in front of her friends. " Pretty good, isn't he? "

All three adults nodded on impulse. It was the polite thing to do, and besides, it _was_ a pretty good picture.

_Has a nice meaning to it too_. Claire thought, touched. Around here, Alexandra's generosity and kindness seemed to have spread like the plague. A lot of kind words could be heard, and even the darker snippets did not go beyond polite conversation.

Alexandra put a hand to Dev's forehead, then pulled it away with a small sigh. " Fever's going down. I need you to relax for me, kay Dev? I have to go now, but I'll be sure to have Susan come by with a warm cup of cocoa for you. You'd like that, wouldn't ya? "

The words were meant to be reassuring, but Dev frowned slightly. " Promise you'll be back? " He whimpered, sounding like a little lost puppy.

Saying 'no' would have been unthinkable. Alexandra put on her most winning grin, " Of course! I would spend time with you now if I could, but I have some old friends to catch up with, and it's very important stuff. Tell you what, I'll read you a story a little later on tonight if you're still awake. Kay? "

All traces of a frown were instantly erased. " Okay! " Dev settled back into his blankets and waved. " Night Ally."

" Night Dev." If she knew him, he was going to be awake later on. Persistent little devil. With this in mind, Alexandra--"Ally"--continued down the row, her gaze touching each of the patients in turn. Had to make sure everything was in working order...

" What's wrong with him? " Jill asked, her question so quiet it was barely audible in the lively clatter of the room.

" Dev? He was infected by the T-virus from a zombie's bite. I arrived too late to save his parents, but I was at least able to save him. I rushed him back here as quickly as I could and injected him with the cure, but it's been a slow recovery. That's the way it is sometimes. He suffers from frequent fevers and flu-like symptoms. He should be just fine within another couple of days though."

" Oh." Chris's face fell. " Does he have any other...family? People who know him? "

" None." Alexandra announced sadly, " That's why I'm adopting him as my son. He needs someone to look out for him, and I'm the closest thing to a mommy he has." A smile flickered briefly on her lips, " Plus he gets along famously with Sultan."

" Where is Sultan, anyway? " Jill couldn't help but to ask.

Alexandra did not seem concerned. " Oh, he's around here somewhere. Probably ran into my bedroom for a drink. That's where his dishes are."

Something was bothering Chris. Something he should have caught onto much sooner...

" Alexandra? My son..." He paused, and now all eyes fell to him. Talk about being in the spotlight. " What did...I mean, before we got sent here, we all had a visit from Future-Seth. Remember? " His gaze swept his family, waiting for their support. Both women nodded.

" Yeah." They agreed.

His motion backed with fact, and reassured that that whole Future-Seth thing hadn't been some wild hallucination worked up from stress, he continued, " Seth was almost five in my time, but this version of him was sixteen. He said he was from the year 2015. Are you sure he's dead? "

" 2015? " It was Alexandra's turn to be surprised, " That's...I'm pretty sure he's dead. Alan said he died in a fire. I can't imagine why he'd lie about it."

" No." Jill said firmly, her voice a little icier than usual, " This Seth _was_ from 2015. He seemed completely normal."

That was pleasantly shocking. Alexandra felt her mood improving.

" Aha! " Her sudden outburst startled the whole room, " Of course! Alternate timelines, paralell universes! " She slapped a hand to her forehead, then began to babble excitedly, " This timeline isn't set in stone, it's just one of an infinite number of _other _possible timelines, _other _universes. The Seth you encountered must have been from one of those dimensions, an alternate reality."

" So what you're saying is this isn't how the future _will_ be, only what it _might_ be? " Chris beamed, a full smile spanning his face for the first time since his daughter's death.

" Exactly! If my theory is correct, somewhere along the course of history those timelines were ripped, and the stream of time was split. Kind of like plunking a large rock in the middle of a very shallow river. Tell me, what do you know about how you came to be here? "

" Well, this is going to sound crazy, but a witch sent us after a piece of either white wood with golden carvings or a shiny red garnet orb. By the way, you seen either of those? " Chris's voice carried a note of hope.

Alexandra shook her head, but her smile never dimmed. " Oh, there's nothing like that around here, but if you got here in the first place the laws of the universe demand you return to your own time at _some _point. If you do, you have a chance to stop this future from ever happening..."

" Dr. Ashford! There you are! "

During all the excitement, the group hadn't noticed a lean older guy with graying brown hair swept back neatly and wearing a white labcoat approach from the side. He wasn't what you'd call young--Chris placed him anywhere from 50-70 years of age. The words '_Tem Rainfield' _were clearly emblazoned under the R.A.I.N. insignia. For a moment, their eyes met, and the older man gave an apologetic nod before redirecting his attention back to Alexandra.

" Tem! You surprised me." Alexandra breathed, clearly startled.

Tem shook his head sadly.

Chris didn't like that. Chances were, he had bad news.

" Sorry, but a couple of...situations have arisen. We've ran out of the T-virus cure and we're all out Pyloxideum. Megan and Jess have been infected."

Alexandra's eyes widened in abject horror. Her hand flew up to cover her mouth. " Oh dear...if they don't receive the injection within six hours they'll die! "

Tem nodded gravely. This was a dire situation. " The Acid Rain base stationed to the Northeast has Pyloxiduem, we're sure. Problem is, that's Wesker's territory."

Alexandra recoiled visibly at the name. This just kept getting worse and worse.

" What's Pyloxideum? " Chris wanted to know.

Alexandra pinned his gaze. She looked haunted. " It's a crucial ingredient of the T-virus cure. Without it, we can't prepare the antidote."

" That's bad." Chris didn't need to say what they were all thinking. Someone was going to have to venture into Weskerville and get the Pyloxiduem ...or else whoever Megan and Jess were, they were as good as zombies.

Alexandra shook her head, a look of determined bravery set into her features, " I'm going to have to get that Pyloxideum then..."

" I'm afraid I would have to advise you against that." Tem, stated, his voice stained with worry and pain.

" What? " Alexandra cried, " Why? "

" Because," Tem didn't sound just worried--now he was out and out panicked, " Alan is right upstairs in the reception room. He's found us, Alexandra. And unless you come up there right away and talk, he's threatened to start killing the people up there with him until you do."


	26. An Uneasy Dinner

__

A/N: This is another Violet Cameo chapter, so half the credit goes to Hello Captain, as always. :) She's a joy to co-write with, and I strongly recommend her works.

****

Chapter 26

Go seed the lies. Sure. Why do I get the feeling this is going to go horribly wrong? Alexandra couldn't help but wonder as she, Violet, and Sultan started out of the lab. Worry seemed to be the general atmosphere amongst the three friends. Alfred and Alexia had never talked to any of their children much about their own childhood, but from what she had gathered they weren't the nicest kids on the block. 

Once during a particularly boring evening at home she had overheard her mother boast of killing some guy named Francois when her and Alfred were only seven, repeat--_seven--_years old. That was an awfully young age to be thinking of murder. If they were capable of it at seven, they were more than capable at ten.

_And Violet..._The young Ashford's gaze shifted to her gawky but intelligent friend. Violet didn't look any more comfortable with the whole situation than she was, which was understandable. Worry imprinted itself on her face all the harder, and now Alexandra was more determined than ever not to goof up. _I can't let anything happen to her because of me. She's bending over backwards to help me here; probably even risking her life in the process. I have to make sure things run smoothly. After all, I'm the one who's not supposed to be here. Not her._

Lady Luck, fickle demon that she was, decided that she was not on Alexandra's side today. No sooner had the trio made it ten paces down the elegant narrow corridor than there was a flash of blonde and a much younger, smaller version of Alexia appeared suddenly from around a corner.

Alexandra and Violet nearly collided with her.

Alexia was not in the least amused. It was amazing how fast her face transformed into a snarl. Alexandra had never seen anyone look so angry so quickly.

" Snowe?! " Her voice was a shrill, dangerous hiss, " What on earth are you doing wandering about without permission? " She turned her cold gaze to Alexandra and her feline companion; her blue eyes widening in horror and confusion that was quickly replaced by a forced look of haughty superiority, " Kindly explain the presence of that child, Snowe."

_Bugger. _Violet wrinkled her nose in consternation at her child boss.

" Dr Ashford!" She exclaimed in a voice that was barely more than a squeak, " Y...your...uh...um...your cousin just arrived. I found her looking a little lost and there was no one about and I um...I'm really sorry, the experiment data you asked for is almost finished, I'll get right back to it a.s.a.p, but I...." Violet trailed off and looked at her feet.

" It's not her fault," Alexandra added quickly, picking up where her human companion had left off and fixing Alexia with her innocent blue eyes, " I wandered off alone. I..." she stammered, _Oh great, how am I going to put this? She already hates me._ " I mean, my parents sent me over on a surprise visit. I assumed it was already cleared with ah...Alexander." She extended her hand nervously, wary of Alexia's dangerous look. " Pleasure to meet you. I'm Alexandra Ashford." She tried on a cute, sincere look.

Alexia eyed her relative coldly for a moment, sneering at her outstretched hand. She was not used to having such matters thrust upon her, and the lack of her customary iron control angered her.

" Well...Alexandra," She replied in that same frosty tone, " It appears that you have already made the acquaintance of some of our less intelligent members of staff," she shot a spiteful glance at Violet, who bit her lip.

_Fuck you Alexia. I have two degrees, AND I've never shagged my brother. Beat that._

Alexia continued, " This really is most inconvenient. Trust the Americans to botch matters up so. It really is frightfully rude of you to show up without precedence," her complete dumbfoundment was barely concealed.

Alexandra was not happy with this reply. _Yep. This is my mother alright_. She pulled back her hand. " I don't think Violet's dumb at all. Sorry if you think my presence here may be a little but rude. My apologies, I thought you knew."

Alexia's expression hardened, causing Alexandra to draw back closer to Violet. Not for the first time, it struck the child just how _cold _it was in the building. " Oh, and it's a little chilly in here." She shivered for effect. The T-Veronica coursing through her veins made her more susceptible to the cold than most people. She really felt as if she were standing in the middle of an iceberg wearing nothing but a leotard. Not a comfortable way to begin any search. " If it's not a bother, would it be....I mean...maybe you could turn up the heat? Please Mo....I mean, Mistress Alexia? I'm really unused to such cold."

Violet broke into a delighted grin in spite of herself as Alexia turned extremely pale and clenched her fists until the knuckles went white. _What a swell kid._

" Wipe that smirk off your face, Snowe! " The Ashford Mistress snapped angrily before forcing a tight little smile at Alexandra, " Certainly," she said in a voice that trembled with rage under the forced courtesy, " I shall address the matter with one of the servants presently."

Alexandra tried not to show her fear. _Why am I so afraid of her? She doesn't even have the virus yet. _Facts were facts. If anything were to happen, she had a big advantage over this pint-sized version of her mother.Instead of balking she smiled pleasantly. Since she was here she may as well set a good example on proper etiquette.

" Thank you. That's most kind. Shall we visit Lord Alexander and inform him of our arrival? Oh..." She paused mid-sentence, realizing that Alexia was not familiar with Sultan. The tiger yawned, displaying a multitude of gleaming white teeth, " That's my pet Sultan. He's tame, don't worry." She looked up to Violet quickly before retuning her eyes to Alexia. " It's just a good thing that Violet found me." Despite her best attempts to appear calm, she couldn't help the ugly little tinge of nervousness that wriggled it's way into that last sentence.

Alexia eyed the tiger warily, inching slightly closer to Violet as it yawned for a second time, still keeping that look of aloof disgust on her noble features.

" I'll thank you to keep that animal under control while it is in my house," she snapped, despite the fact that the tiger was behaving like a perfect housecat, before rounding on Violet, " And what were _you _doing out of the lab, might I ask? "

_Aw, bollocks. Think fast, Violet, think fast. _" Um..." Violet stammered for a few moments, wishing that she didn't have to constantly defer to a ten year old, " Uh...um..." eventually she answered in an uncertain voice, not wanting to give away the fact that Alexandra was in the labs, " I...um...piss break...? " _Yeah nice one Violet. Now you're for it._

" What?! " Alexia raged, now very suspicious.

" Yeah," Alexandra confirmed, " I met her near a restroom." She looked to Violet, resisting the urge to wink as that would give them both away. She met Alexia's harshness with a sunny-sweet smile. " And I assure you, Sultan is most well-behaved." She patted the cub on the head in demonstration.

Sultan mewled happily and rolled over onto his back, wanting his tummy rubbed. Misplaced he may be, but the tiger still remembered scents. Alexia was familiar. Family. Not a threat. Many times in the past he'd dashed in front of the older version; even batted at her legs at some points, to which the Ashford mistress had always retaliated with a harsh swat.

Alexia snorted in distaste at the animal, unwittingly mirroring her future self's visage perfectly. " He had better be." She warned before glaring at Violet, "And as for you, what is wrong with the lavatory down in the labs? "

The auburn haired girl, who was fiddling with her broken glasses, looked up sharply before mumbling, " They've frozen over again, Dr. Ashford." It was not a lie.

" Um, do you think you could take me to Alexander now? Or perhaps take me on a tour of this..." Alexandra strained to say words she didn't really mean, " lovely base? I am sorry to be a bother, but I really don't know where I'm at or where I'm supposed to be." _A tour would be lovely. Then I could have a layout for when I search for that blasted Hylen. _She rubbed Sultan's tummy a bit, never taking her eyes off of Alexia.

Never before had Alexandra been in such dangerous, trying circumstances. _I wish Mom would stop being so rude. Especially to Violet. A little kindness goes a long way._

" I'm sorry, cousin," Alexia sneered, " But as an Umbrella head researcher I simply do not have the time to indulge in such fruitless endeavors. You may think me rude, but I am far too busy to play hostess," she pursed her lips for a moment before rapping, " Miss Snowe?"

Violet jumped, and there was a large amount of fear discernable in her mannerisms, "Yes'm? "

" How far are you from completing those reports I asked for? "

Violet grimaced and groaned inwardly at the thought of her massive workload, " Um...I've done forty out of the forty five, but I have a slight backlog left from last week..." _A hundred fucking reports to do in a week. I hate my job. I haven't even had a full night's sleep in weeks, let alone a fucking day off..._

Alexia arched an eyebrow, mildly impressed. She had not expected her assistant to have done more than half. " Very well," she sighed reluctantly, her rosebud mouth set in a hard line, " You may suspend your endeavors for now and see to it that my cousin grows acquainted with the residential areas of the facility. She is under no circumstances to be allowed in the labs, is that quite clear? " Violet looked away guiltily and mumbled an assent.

" Why not? " Alexandra wanted to know, " I'm quite adequate in several fields of research and virology. Perhaps I could help her catch up more during my time here? I mean, that seems like such an unfair amount of work. Please, let me help her during part of my stay. I promise to stay out of your way."

Alexia wasn't just being unfair, she was being _ridiculously_ unfair. She bit her lip nervously, before realizing with horror that that might draw blood, and stopped. She shot Alexia a pleading look, trying her best to appear innocent and sincere.

_Here's to keeping my fingers crossed. _She fidgeted slightly in her nervousness.

Alexia glared at Alexandra as though she has just insulted her parentage. Not only did this child show up out of nowhere, but she was also a rival to Alexia's scientific prowess. That wouldn't do. That wouldn't do at all.

" You will stay out of my labs..." The older Ashford hissed, " It's bad enough that Snowe is around being a liability. God, that girl is barely competent." She scowled, " But I am not risking further setback to my project by letting my guests run amuck there too! "

Violet groaned silently. _Oh give me a fucking break Alexia. You're just jealous of her._

Alexandra sighed sadly, thought of arguing, then decided against it. _What do I care? This isn't even my timeline. Once I leave I won't have to worry about it. She's just jealous. And what does she **mean **setback? That's quite insulting. If she only knew the half of it...wait. That's a bad idea. A **very** bad idea._

" Alright then," There was no other choice but to concede; what else was she going to do, show off her T-Veronica abilities and _demand _Alexia let her help? " It was just a thought. I'm sorry to have offended. I didn't mean to." She struggled not to show her true feelings on that matter, reminding herself that this was the past after all. What had happened had happened. She tugged Violet's labcoat gently, " Come on then, Violet. I'm ready when you are." She sent Alexia a sad, pitying look.

Alexia scowled angrily. If looks could kill, Violet would have been dead. " _Try _not to botch this up, Snowe," she drawled caustically, and Violet turned red. The bespectacled scientist looked thoroughly miserable as she tried to smile at Alexandra. She stood frozen as Alexia brushed past her haughtily, her eyes fixed to the ground.

Once Alexia was out of earshot, she looked at Alexandra, " Much appreciated, kid, but you don't need to worry about me," she mumbled, before forcing a bright smile, "Anyway, I'm sure you're dying to meet the rest of the Adam's family, so we should get heading, right? "

Alexandra nodded sadly. After a quick scan to be certain that they were indeed alone, she caught Violet's eye; a soulful expression felt from the depths of her heart. " I wish so many of my family weren't jerks."

Violet shrugged, " Me too," she murmured, more to herself than to her companion. Encounters with Alexia always left her feeling completely dejected. _It's times like this when I wish I was back in the lab. I'd take an insane workload over Little Miss Muffet any day...still, cheer up, Vi. You've got some time off thanks to this crazy kid, you should at least be grateful for that. _Straightening her slumped shoulders, she looked Alexandra in the eye, "Anyway, you should be proud that you've broken the Ashford tradition of being an arsehole."

Alexandra smiled at last and gestured for Violet to lead the way. They continued down the hall. Sultan got up and followed; a well-trained cub and unusually smart.

" Yes, I am proud of that achievement. My big sister Alexis is pretty nice too, but my brother and parents are all a bunch of..." She chuckled in spite of herself, " Cretins."

" Oh I wouldn't say Alexia was a cretin," Violet grinned broadly at the use of her favorite word, " She's just a super-bitch from hell." She glanced over her shoulder at the tiger cub, "You know, for something so fucking terrifying, it's actually quite cute. Do you like spiders at all? "

Alexandra beamed. " Yes! I love animals."

The scientist chuckled and adjusted her spectacles. It appeared to b a nervous habit of hers. " I wouldn't go that far. I fucking hate puppies..." Violet smiled sadly, " I used to breed tarantulas back home, but I had to leave 'em behind with my motorbike when I came here. It wasn't really a fair trade: in return I got to work for Alexia." She stumbled over her own feet and barely managed to stay upright, catching a nearby shelf laden with dolls to keep her balance.

Alexandra tried not to show her surprise at this lack of grace. " Do you need any help? " _Not very graceful, but she is rather nice once you get to know her. Doesn't appear to be fond of my mother though. Not that I blame her. Makes me embarrassed to be an Ashford; Mom always acts like she's got a bee stuck in her knickers._

Violet waved her hand, " Not at all, happens all the time. I'm...uh...a wee bit clumsy..." she touched her nose, " Hence the broken specs."

Alexandra nodded and went on, " You know, it really is a shame I can't help you for a bit. That was awfully rude of her."

Violet burst into laughter, " Take notice of what Alexia says. If I followed all her orders to the letter, I'd be half dead from exhaustion by now. I'm sure we can find a way of sneaking you into the lab..." she coughed bashfully, " Sides, I want to get a proper look at what's in your blood..."

They reached an office door and Violet patted Alexandra on the shoulder, " The worst's over with, we've dealt with Alexia. I don't know Lord Ashford very well, but he's certainly not as bad as his horror of a daughter. You want me to wait out here or come in with you...? "

Alexandra swallowed nervously. _What's he going to be like in person, I wonder? _The horrors of just an hour ago came back to hit her full force like a ton of bricks. _Grandfather_. The thought filled her with a strange kind of sadness. The only time she'd ever met the man was when he wasn't a man at all but rather a hideous tentacled monster bent on killing her and torturing her parents. An experience she hoped never to repeat ever again. He'd been a particularly nasty creature.

But what had he been like before that? Paranoid, sure; Alexandra gathered that much from the notes she'd read and the few tidbits her parents relinquished on the rare occasions they bothered to mention him at all. He'd also had an unhealthy obsession with Veronica and was the main one responsible for her parents' upbringing. But what did that really say about his character? Was he truly evil, or just ignorant?

They were about to find out.

Alexandra felt her fingers close lightly on the knob. Only then did she realize she was breaking out into a cold sweat; her fingers moist and clammy. _I can't do this alone. God, why do I have this horrible feeling? What if Grandfather decides we both should be shot or something?_

" Please, do come in with me." She _needed_ Violet. Simple as that. Whatever happened afterwards was nothing. She'd deal with the issues as they came. At the moment, she just needed a friend in this alien world.

When Violet didn't reply, she mustered up the courage and opened the door. Then, Sultan in tow, the two nervous friends entered into the unknown.

Inside the room was small, cluttered, and confining. A miniature version of Alfred was standing off to one corner while Alexander was completely engrossed in the mass amounts of papers on his desk 

Wow. He looks just like he did in the old photographs! Alexandra marveled, _Well, that makes sense but...wow. This is the same guy who tried to kill me just a little bit ago! He sure doesn't look like it._

Actually Alexander Ashford wasn't all that bad looking for a man over thirty. Sure, his face was haggard and tired with all the little lines and wrinkles that stood testament to long hours at work, and sure, the unshaved goatee gave him--at least in Alexandra's opinion--a sort of tacky appearance, but it was easy to tell the man was well bred. It was even easier to tell he was an Ashford. If the fancy clothes and familiar face didn't already give it away, the trademark blue eyes and blonde hair betrayed him completely.

He and Alfred both looked up at the sound of the door and greeted their unexpected visitors with genuine bewilderment.

" Hello, what's this? " Alexander said, squinting. He recognized Violet vaguely. " Miss Snowe? "

_Don't think of him as the monster killing your parents back in the future. Focus. Focus Alexandra. _Alexandra cleared her throat, mustering up the courage to walk past a curious Alfred and stand in front of her Grandfather's desk. Here came the moment of truth.

God, what was she going to do if this didn't work?

" Um, hi there. I'm Alexandra Ashford, your American cousin come to visit."

Violet nodded quickly, " Miss Ashford asked me to show Alexandra around..." _Oh please don't let him ask too many questions._

Alexander raised an eyebrow in suspicion. He had no time to question, however, as just then Sultan took note of the young Alfred. Recognizing his scent, the cat pounced upon him hoping to play. Alfred was so surprised he let out a bloodcurdling scream and tried to push the little big cat off him.

" Ahhhh! Get it off me! Getitoffgetitoffgetitoff! "

" Oh bloody HELL! " Violet shouted out above Alfred's screams before clapping a hand to her mouth. She looked at Alexandra desperately, " Call it OFF! "

Alexander looked on in complete horror at the chaos that had enveloped his office.

" Sultan! Alexandra called, horrified, " No! Off! Bad kitty! " She grabbed the cub by his collar and pulled him free from Alfred with little difficulty. _Oh boy, what a perfect start to get off to! He must know smell that that's Dad and Dad likes to play. _Her face turned the color of Veronica's hair, " Sorry about that. He just wanted to play." She offered apologetically. She gave Sultan a stern look. " _Bad _kitty."

Alexander pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger and sighed wearily, " Please try to keep your menagerie under control..." he muttered, looking almost as stressed as Violet, who was trying her best to placate the still screaming Alfred.

Alexandra stroked Sultan's glossy coat with one hand while using the other to keep him still. She looked over at a terrified Alfred, who was still reeling from his close encounters of the furred kind. Slowly, his wide eyes began to narrow as initial shock was replaced with genuine awe. Alexandra met his gaze.

" I'm terribly sorry, you must have smelled familiar to him. Are you alright? "

" I...I...I'm telling Alexia! " Alfred whimpered petulantly and Violet closed her eyes in dismay, before putting a soothing hand on his shoulder.

" Listen, Alfie," she said in a very gentle, maternal voice, " There's no need for that. The nice big cat was just playing because he liked how you smelt."

Alfred's eyes widened, still filled with tears. " It...it did? "

Violet grinned and nodded, " Course he did. You've made a friend!" She hated herself for her insincerity towards the boy, being unable to feel any genuine affection for him, but she knew that it was necessary to preserve Alexandra's deception smoothly. Alfred seemed to brighten.

Alexandra nodded. " He must really like you. Please don't be frightened, I assure you Sultan wouldn't hurt a fly."

" I hope so." Alexander said in the haggard, tired voice of a man who had spent too much time working. He eyed Violet suspiciously, " Miss Snowe, why was I not..." he gestured to Alexandra, sending a stack of papers over the desk. Pausing a brief second to curse, he continued wearily, " Informed about this? "

" I...uh..." Violet spluttered for a few moments, turning slightly pale, " I...I must have forgotten to tell you about the phone call," _This kid is going to get me into some real trouble, I can just tell. _She looked at the floor guiltily, " I meant to but I...uh...got distracted. With the labs and...." she cleared her throat and finished lamely "...everything."

Alexander raised an eyebrow. He was not accustomed to such things happening without his notice, especially something as important as a visit. He glared first to Violet, then to Alexandra, wondering what to make of this. Then his eye caught on Alexandra's beautiful necklace and the tiger's fanciful collar. _She's obviously from privileged surroundings. Odd, I was not aware I had any other...relatives. _Finally, he cleared his throat and rose. " Well I can see that you're obviously well-bred, Alexandra. Who are your parents? Where are they? "

Alexandra swallowed nervously at an imagined conversation: "_I'm not well-bred I'm **in**bred. My parents? They're Alfred and Alexia, your very own incesteous children._ _They're right under your nose you silly old coot! Hope you don't have a problem with that." Yeah, that will work nicely. _ She thought sarcastically, _I can't very well tell **him** the truth. Violet had a hard enough time believing me._

" I um...well..." She sputtered, grabbing for names out of thin air, " My parents are Alice and Daniel Ashford. At the moment we live in America in the state of Vermont. They um...they didn't come with me on this little trip. They were much too busy attending important matters. They said it'd do me good to get out and see the world, including the other part of my family."

Violet nodded quickly, " That's right. Uh...Daniel Ashford telephoned the other week to let me know and I neglected to pass on the message. My apologies, sir."

Alexander narrowed his eyes at Violet for a few moments. _That girl is completely incompetent. And she's always falling over... _" Very well," he snapped sternly, letting the matter drop not because he wasn't angry but because he was simply too tired to have another member of staff killed, " See to it that you're more careful in future, Snowe." he turned to Alexandra with a genial smile, " Well I must apologize for this little mix-up. You simply can't get the staff these days," he looked at the girl with curiosity. _She seems so much nicer and more receptive than my own daughter_. He thought sadly, " Perhaps, my dear, you would care to join us for supper this evening? It would give us all an opportunity to get to know you better..."

Alexandra beamed brightly. " Oh thank you very much! I'd like that. I was named after you, you know. Isn't that something? "

Alexander nodded, impressed. _Wow. I have family I didn't even know about! And they named their daughter after me, that's something. _" Really? That's commendable."

Alexandra exchanged glances from Violet, to Alexander, then back again. Worry began to crease her face. " But what about Violet? "

_Oh...bloody...hell... _Violet shook her head rapidly, " I...uh..." she had gone rather green at the prospect of this unprecedented social situation.

Alexander shot Alexandra another smile, his tired features expressing genuine warmth, " Oh come now," he chuckled, " You don't want Alexia's lab assistant at dinner," he was not being unkind, but such was his upbringing that the idea of having someone that he saw as no more than an extension of the servants to dinner was utterly unfathomable, " I'm sure Snowe has far too much work to do and besides..." he actually chuckled, " she's part of the _staff! _"

Alexandra turned her nose up at him, no longer able to deal with the way people were treating this poor young woman. " So? She's a person first and foremost." She returned as politely as she could, " _And_ she's my friend. It would be unthinkable to attend dinner without her." Her expression softened. " Please? " She gave the classic puppy-eyes in hopes of furthering her argument. _I have to keep an eye on her now that she knows the truth. I don't trust my mother. Well, Gramps neither, really. Hard_

telling what they'll do.

Alexander gave Violet a very puzzled, very suspicious look, before turning back to Alexandra. _These Americans really do have crazy ideas about the social order._

" I...suppose that would be acceptable," he relented, "...if a little unorthodox." Looking at Violet he snapped sharply, " Make sure you..." he winced, " Make sure you look presentable, Snowe."

There was a loud giggle from under the desk as Alfred laughed with delight, " Dinner! Oh golly, father, I can't wait!"

Violet simply looked at the floor and bit her lip. _I've died and gone to purgatory... _she thought with a wry smile.

Alexandra eyed Alfred for a moment before looking up at Alexander and curtsying politely. " Thank you, Lord Alexander. I will never forget this act of kindness and hospitality you have shown me. Dinner, I just know it's going to be wicked cool! " She blurted before she could stop herself. _Wicked cool? Could I have found a more my-time-ish thing to say? Especially around these parts. Oh my god, they're going to think I've flipped!_

Alexander looked surprised, both by the unfamiliar expression, and the whole 'Thank you for this act of kindness, Lord Alexander'. _The girl has respect, I'll give her that. _He nodded slowly. " Very well then. Meet in the dining room at..." he glanced at his watch, " 6 o'clock sharp for dinner." He shot Violet a dangerous look, " As for you, Miss Snowe, for just one time, _try_ not to be yourself."

Violet jumped to attention, flustered as Alexander rolled his eyes wearily, " Uh...yessir! Um...your...Lord...ness..." she faltered off and turned slightly red.

" Go." The monosyllabic order was all the encouragement Violet needed to flee the room as quickly as she could, head down.

---

The tour around the base did not last long; only about twenty minutes. Partially due to the fact that Alexandra was so young and innocent, and partially due to the fact that most of the labs and rooms were strictly off-limits to all but the most favored and competent employees, there really wasn't much Violet was allowed to show her.

Such a pity. If only she could see more of the rooms Alexandra was certain she would at least be able to form a hypothesis as to the mystical staff's location. Too bad the opportunity never presented itself.

They'd go to one room and Violet would explain real briefly what it was for and what kind of work was performed there, and Alexandra would nod and ask maybe one or two questions that struck her fancy; usually pertaining to the nature of the work or where Violet thought the Hylen was likely to be hidden.

The latter never got a serious answer, and after the first two mentions of it Alexandra was certain that Violet didn't believe in white witches, magical staffs, time travel, or sorceresses. Worse...and she'd been watching closely...none of the rooms contained anything even remotely resembling a white-wood staff with golden runes or a red garnet orb.

This was very worrying, and Alexandra was starting to feel completely helpless. What good did it do to travel back in time if she couldn't even find what she was looking for? And if she couldn't find what she was looking for, how could anyone ever hope to defeat Veronica? _She's too powerful...Angelique is right. If she's bent on playing God, there isn't much we can do to stop her._

The ticking of a clock mentally imposed itself in her brain. _Ticktockticktock...._

Time was running out.

She tried to push the frightening thoughts and images to the back of her mind; concentrate on the positive. There was still time to work this out. No need to sweat, she still had at least six hours to find what she was looking for. Then she wouldn't have to worry about what Alexander, Alexia, Violet, or anyone else thought of her. Things would be set straight and she could return to the safety of her own time where people knew who she was.

Somewhere during the course of conversation through the halls, it had come to light that Alexandra's having no luggage was, suffice to say, more than a little suspicious and bad for her cover. She was supposed to be a cousin coming to visit from America, after all. She would _have_ to have brought something with her: a few sets of clothing, games, toys...personal items and such.

Fortunately Violet had had just the solution, and now Alexandra was waiting patiently in a guest bedroom while Violet fumbled about busily in a closet. Sultan rested at her side, worn out from a combination of all the running around the base chasing after his mistress and just the shock at being suddenly transported to strange new surroundings as well. He lay flat on his belly, paws spread out neatly at his sides and tail still as stone like the famous Sphinx of the ancient past.

They did not have long to wait.

" I'm back!" Violet called out over the mountain of pastel fabric and lace that she was laden with as she struggled through the door. Dumping the bundle of clothing onto the bed with a sigh, she grinned triumphantly at Alexandra.

The young Ashford studied the fabrics, impressed. They looked just like the clothes young Alexia wore!

" Those Alexia's? " She asked, leaping up from her chair in the corner of the room to fling herself excitedly on the bed.

" No," Violet smirked in spite of herself, " They're Alfred's. I pinched them from his toy box." She looked down and sighed. Having since changed her clothing, she was now clad in a grey skirt and blouse that were the smartest items of clothing she had been

able to find on her floor. Her hair was pinned up in a loose bun and, had it not been for her broken glasses, she might have looked vaguely respectable. " I'll wait outside while you get dressed," Violet glanced at her watched and wrinkled her nose, " Quickly."

Alexandra nodded. " Definitely."

Once Violet was out the door, she proceeded to change clothes. _I'm going to have to hurry as it is,_ She thought to herself, _Only 6 and a half hours left to find the Hylen before dear Veronica blows everything and everyone to bits. _She still couldn't believe it. Veronica had been so nice to her. How could someone that nice be that cruel? What was the world coming to. A few minutes elapsed with Violet waiting outside the door impatiently. Then Alexandra emerged, dressed up to resemble Alexia.

" I'm ready," She told Violet in a soft whisper, " But I hope this doesn't take all that long. Only 6 and a half hours to find the Hylen before I go back to my own time with or without it."

_Christ. They could be sisters! _Alexandra's mention of her time-travel story made Violet frown slightly, but she reasoned that she was charged with looking after the strange girl anyway, so she might as well play along with her make-believe treasure hunt while she was here.

Violet nodded absent-mindedly, " Well we can have a wander about for...uh...that after dinner," she blanched, " Right now I really need to concentrate on not breaking any..." there was a thud as Violet tripped over one of Alfred's discarded toys and ended up in a heap on the floor. As her spectacles hung lopsidedly from her nose she groaned, " Uh...not breaking anything..."

Alexandra snickered lightly. " I'm sure you'll do just fine." She offered reassuringly, " Now let's get heading off to dinner." She looked on the floor at a now sleeping Sultan. " I guess we could leave him here. It's that time of day where he takes a really long nap, so he shouldn't wake up until after supper. C'mon." She started down the hallway, going the wrong direction since her navigational skills sucked royally.

Violet caught her lightly by the arm, " This way..." she said gently, nodding in the opposite direction, before grinning. " It's ok, this place is a complete fucking maze. Just like Arkley. Honestly, I don't know who the hell Umbrella get to design their facilities, but they really aren't going to win any architect of the year awards any time soon."

Alexandra smiled gently. " I agree."

They continued to the dining room, passing a few servants and other lab personnel along the way. Most of them looked tired and overworked, which was starting to feel like a theme to this place. When they at last entered the exquisite dining room, dinner was already spread out over the fine polished table which looked big enough to seat a king. Fancy candles burned from silver and gold holders, and the whole place had a very...aristocratic feel to it. Alexander, Alfred, and Alexia were already waiting in their seats. They looked up as the guests of honor arrived.

" It's about time." Alexander mumbled, " You're one minute late."

" Sorry." Alexandra apologized, taking a seat as far away from Alexia as humanly possible.

Violet looked around the room, her expression distinctly similar to a hunted animal as she saw Alexia glaring at her stonily.

" What," Alexia's voice was shrill and petulant, " Are _you _doing here, Snowe?" the young Ashford mistress was clearly riled at the presence of Alexandra, her annoyance now compounded by the fact that Violet was there, "You should be in the lab..."

Violet exhaled deeply, " Yes, Dr Ashford, you're absolutely right..." she breathed and turned to leave hastily, her nerves getting the better of her, but was stopped by a wave of Alexander's hand.

" She's here because Alexandra has taken a fondness to her," he explained, trying as best he could to placate his daughter, " Let us not be rude to our guest, dear."

Alexandra nodded. " Thank you Lord Alexander."

As Violet returned to her seat, Alexandra picked up one of the many silverware on the table and served herself some of the pasta and salad. _Where's the salt? _Naturally, it was by Alexia. _Rats. _As the other Ashfords began to dig in--some more mannerly than others--her eyes flitted to Alexia. " Um..." She almost choked, " Alexia? Would you be so kind as to please pass the salt? "

It was a simple question. It really was.

Alexia's china-blue eyes widened at the audacity of this girl, the colour rising on her pale face, " I most certainly will no..." she began before checking herself. _I will not allow this proletarian commoner to rile me. I am Alexia Ashford and I am superior to this American upstart in every way. I shall find another method of making her pay for intruding upon my home. _She smiled a false, sickeningly sweet smile that made Violet groan inwardly. She knew from past experience that a smile like that could only mean Alexia was planning something very unpleasant.

Alexia was reaching for the salt when Alfred snatched it up eagerly and stretched over the table in a most ungainly manner, handing it to Alexandra with a beaming smile. He looked away, blushing and giggling

Alexandra was surprised. " Why, thank you Alfred! What a thoughtful gesture." _Perhaps he does like me after all. _She sprinkled the salt over her food, never noticing the way Alexia was eyeing her over like a bug which needed to be swatted.

The table returned to silence for a second, then Alexander asked, " So, Alexandra, tell us a bit about yourself. What's your family like? " He folded a napkin in his hand and dabbed at his chin.

Alexandra stared at her plate, unsure what was safe to say. " Well," she admitted truthfully, " My father's almost okay, but my mother doesn't like me much. In fact, she's always punishing me. She doesn't understand me."

_I can see why. _Alexia scowled at Alexandra, her dainty features marred with a dark look.

" Hmm..." Alexander replied, wiping his mouth with a napkin, " That really is a frightful shame. Your mother must be a very misguided woman..." he beamed at her brightly, having taken a real shine to this younger, nicer, politer version of his own Alexia.

He opened his mouth to say something else but was cut short by a loud clatter, followed by a smash. The whole table looked at once to Violet who was staring in horror at the jug of water she had just knocked to the floor by accident. Her face drained of its colour as her glasses slid down her nose in that annoying habit that they had of dislodging themselves at the most inappropriate moments, and she opened and closed her mouth in an attempt to stammer an apology. _Oh...bollocks._

" Snowe." Alexander shook his head in disbelief. How could one girl break so much?

Rushing to the defense, Alexandra grabbed a cloth napkin and sprung down to help Violet with the mess. As the others looked on, she wiped up all the water quickly. Thankfully the jug had been crafted of a fine metal alloy, and thus had not broken upon impact. Once she had set the jug aside to one corner of the table, Alexandra regained her seat. " There." She grinned, "All taken care of."

Alexia's jaw dropped. This was absurd!

" Don't worry," Alexandra told her clumsy friend, " It happens to the best of us."

" Cheers," Violet whispered to Alexandra as she sat back down, " I...uh...um...." she felt herself withering under Alexia's stony glare, " I'll just...uh....shut up now."

Alexia sniffed, " I think that would be advisable, Snowe," she sniffed haughtily. Violet began to eat in silence. _ I'm about as welcome as a fart in a spacesuit here..._she thought to herself, leaning back in her chair and trying to make herself as small as possible; not an easy task for someone so tall. _ Still, it's been a while since I've had a proper meal. Maybe I should just enjo... _her thoughts were interrupted as she almost fell backwards off her chair and she grimaced, hoping no one had noticed. , Violet. Don't break anything...

Alexandra gave Violet a reassuring glance before continuing her meal.

" So," Alfred said casually, his words directed at the newcomer Ashford, " Your mother is mean to you. I bet you hate her for that."

Alexandra shook her head, delicately lifting a piece of pasta to her mouth with her fork. It fell off. The child prodigy sighed quietly. " No. I have never hated anyone or wished them ill. Mother may not be my biggest fan, but I still love her."

Alfred looked at Alexandra as though she were an alien from Outer Space.

"You...love her?" he marveled incredulously, " Wow..." turning to his sister, his blue eyes were wide with this new concept, " Alexia...do you love me? " he asked excitedly.

" Love is for the weak," Alexia snapped back coldly,

Alfred's face fell, and he looked away, crestfallen.

Alexandra shook her head. " No, it's not." She said gently, the echo of timeless ages falling into her soft voice and making her sound ten times older and wiser than what she really was, " Love is the most powerful passion there is. Love does not delight in evil, but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always preservers. Love never fails. Hatred and indifference...those are for the weak. I pity such souls."

There was a long, awkward pause as the entire table looked at Alexia, who was turning a rather unhealthy shade of red. Eventually she calmed down long enough to formulate a reply.

" You are quite mistaken, cousin." She said icily, "As an Ashford you should know that love means nothing. Power and the family name are everything. We should take our lesson from our ancestor Veronica and her actions, not mindless poetry readings." she sneered, " Power and ambition are the reason why people like me are in charge of the world, and people like _her_..." she nodded at Violet, " are not. If I succumbed to such pitiful trifles as love and charity I would never accomplish anything."

Alexandra couldn't help it. She laughed most unbecomingly. " Believe me, Alexia. I don't think you would get along with Mistress Veronica! " Only when it was too late did she realize she'd used the word "Mistress" as a title to Veronica. She continued, " Love is the one weapon which we can use against the wicked, because they are defenseless against it. You may be in a position to decide who lives or dies, but we can make the same decisions for ourselves." She would have winked at Violet had her mother not been glaring daggers at her.

Violet groaned inwardly, looking at Alexandra with silent horror. She had never seen anyone speak to Alexia with anything other than blind deference since the day of her arrival, when she had broken the young doctor's favorite doll and nearly gotten herself killed. _This is not going well. Alexia's going to have an aneurysm...._

Alexia, who was scarlet by now, managed to regain her composure sufficiently to sneer, " You are wrong, cousin. And I do not wish to argue with someone who is so far beneath me..."

"Alexia! " Alexander interjected sharply, before looking at Alexandra apologetically, " Please, forgive her. She has been working very hard recently and your ideas are a little strange to us." He struggled desperately for a change of subject, " So...eh...how do you like the facility? I trust Snowe has given you a satisfactory tour? "

Alexandra nodded. " It's...." She faltered, remembering the stories from her father and that this was the place in which Nosferatu normally resided. " Nice." She poked at a vegetable. " My big brother Ash would love it here." She met Alexander's gaze, " You are very lucky to have such a place. It reminds me somewhat of the castle."

_Way to go, Alexandra. _She almost slapped herself. _ Me and my big mouth. I hope dinner ends soon before I end up telling them about the T-Veronica virus and everything. _ She sent a warm smile to Violet, hoping to cover her tracks. " Miss Snowe's been very nice to me. I like it here."

" Castle?" Alexander looked impressed, " You live in a castle, then? " It did not phase him as much as Violet had feared. In fact, it was almost inconceivable that an Ashford would not live in a residence befitting to that glorious family name.

Violet cleared her throat and shot Alexandra a nonchalant grin, hoping that she could convey to the younger girl that she was almost completely unfazed by the Ashford family's constant insults. _Because no matter what they say...I'm not shagging my brother/sister/dad/cat etc._

Alexandra gave a wane smile which seemed almost forced. " Yes. A castle on..." _Why not tell the truth? He'll probably just forget anyway. Then I won't be bothered with remembering what lies I made up. _ " Majika Island." Maybe she could switch the topic slightly? " I live there with my parents and adult brother and sister, Alexis and Ash." That was a lie, of course. Alexis wanted nothing to do with the others, not that Alexandra could blame her. But it was all she could think of to say. She unconsciously scooted closer to Violet, feeling safer there. _I wish my father was here. The adult version, that is. _She always did feel safer around Alfred.

Violet looked down at Alexandra and smiled weakly, still conscious of Alexia's glare. While Alexia's insults washed over her as though they were nothing, she wasn't entirely sure if she would be able to handle the backlash from Alexandra's visit. Her working life was hard enough as it was.

" Majika island?" Alfred leaned on the table in excitement and Alexia elbowed him angrily. Unfazed, he continued, " That sounds amazing! Can I come visit you one day?"

Alexandra blinked, surprised. Since Alfred was fairly close to her, she reached across the table and took his hand in hers gently. With a kind smile she replied, " I'm sure you will. I would really like that." She chuckled a bit, " We'll have all kinds of fun! We can play all day until..." she frowned, the truth sinking in, " Until my witch-of-a-mother becomes irate and sends us in. Not to worry though, we'll be safe." She stroked his soft skin gently, offering her kindest, warmest grin. _How did he know I could use another friend?_

Alfred giggled delightedly, his voice shrill and girlish as Alexander marveled at the happiest he had seen his son for as long as he could remember.

Alexia spoke up with a sniff, " Father! Are you really going to allow that? "

Alexander smiled broadly, the arrival of this effervescent child having put him in extraordinarily good spirits, " Of course I am, dear. Would you like to go too? " he asked slyly, a blatant goad at his daughter who had no respect for him.

Alexia merely sneered petulantly. " I have no time for such childish pursuits," she declared, setting her fork down.

Alexandra withdrew, regarding Alexia sadly. " Are you sure? It'll be fun!" She beamed, " And don't worry about our little...disagreement we had earlier. Even if you don't forgive me, I forgive you." Somehow, she felt, she just HAD to say those words. Who knew? Maybe somehow, in some way, that would effect future-Alexia. She set her own fork down and took a sip of water, accidentally bumping Violet's arm with her elbow in the process. " Oops. Sorry."

Violet jumped in her seat and proceeded to knock a plethora of cutlery to the floor, along with her glass of water.

" Bugger! " She exclaimed without thinking, then winced as the table looked on in silent disapproval, " I...um..." she began to laugh nervously. _ Oh well, I didn't even know what half those forks were for... _

Leaping out of her seat, she bent down to pick up the fallen cutlery, mopping at her spilled drink with a napkin. There was a stony silence as she blushed deeper and hastily made to stand back up, banging her head on the table as she did. Sitting back down with a painful thud, the only thing that could be discerned from the auburn haired figure under the table was a muffled, " I think I broke my glasses..."

Alexandra looked on sympathetically. " Uh-oh." Was all she could manage at this display, " Do you need any help? "

" Nope, I got it...." Mumbled the red-faced Violet as she clambered back to her feet and dangled her spectacles in front of her nose with a rueful look. They were completely mangled, both the legs broken off and re-attached with masking tape, and the bridge of the nose snapped in two and poorly glued back together. In addition to this there was a large crack running up the left lens which she had just acquired from her recent lack of coordination. " I think," she whispered conspiratorially to Alexandra as she tried to balance them on her nose while Alexander looked on in disgust, " they _might _be broken..."

Alexandra shook her head. " I hate to say this, but I think they're totaled. Do you perchance have a spare pair? "

Alfred just giggled at the scene before him.

" I do," Violet mumbled as Alexia and Alexander began to bicker amongst themselves, " They're even worse than these ones. Alfred stood on them," she wrinkled her nose, " Well, I say "stood", but...uh..."jumped on repeatedly while giggling" might be a more accurate statement..."

Alfred looked far from ashamed; in fact, he seemed rather pleased with this random act of destruction.

Alexandra shook her head. " Well, that wasn't very nice." She said calmly.

" Thank you," Alfred giggled.

Violet winced at the high pitched noise that emanated from his lips. _Tone down the fucking decibels kid._

Alexandra chuckled too, her voice much quieter and smoother. " You'd get along great with my brother." She told Alfred. _Well, maybe. _They both had destructive tendencies.

" Is he big and strong like me? I am going to be a soldier ant so I can serve Queen Alexia! " He stated proudly.

_I am Violet. I am in Hell. _The scientist groaned inwardly as Alfred began to giggle insanely again.

Alexandra wrinkled her nose. " Ash? Well, yes, he's pretty strong. Not very nice though. When he was a kid his idea of a good time was frying ants with a magnifying glass. Then sometimes he'd throw gasoline on live animals and light them up just to watch them burn." She winced at the thought, " Poor things. He wasn't even nice to our sister." She looked to Violet, then around for a clock.

Hopefully it would be time to leave soon. She really must be looking for that Hylen.

Alfred grinned broadly at Alexandra's words, as Alexia turned her attention back to them with a scowl. " I..." She was on the verge of saying something cutting when she checked herself, " I really must be getting back to the laboratory. I have data to analyze, and I have no time for children's tea parties any longer."

Violet breathed an audible sigh of relief and Alexia looked at her furiously. _ Oh well, let her scowl. I'm in enough trouble to last me the rest of the year already._

Alexandra was curious. And, well, curiosity has been known to make people do some rather stupid things. In Alexandra's case, it caused her to ask, " Alexia? If Violet's so incompetent, why do you let her anywhere near your labs? I'm just wondering."

Alexia paused at the table, gripping the edge until her knuckles went white. She did not have a reply to the question. Violet was not incompetent and Alexia knew this well. She may not have had super-intelligence, but she was one of the best scientists that had ever had the misfortune of working in the Ashford place, and despite her lack of grace, her lab work was almost flawless.

Alexia, however, would never have conceded this in a thousand years. " My work is none of your business." She snapped irritably, vowing to make Alexandra pay at a later date, before stalking out.

Alexander looked at Alexandra apologetically, before shrugging wearily, " I am afraid I too must return to my paperwork." He rose with a dignified air and solemnly offered a small bow to Alexandra, " Thank you for your presence at dinner. It has been a most enjoyable evening."

Alexandra nodded and grinned, " As has it been for me too. My parents send their regards." She rose and stretched, careful not to hit Violet in the nose in the process, " I guess Violet could show me to my quarters then? "

"Ah...yes." Alexander nodded, " I really wouldn't want you getting lost, and I'm sure Alexia can manage in the laboratories for the duration. Now if you'll excuse me," he turned to leave, and paused at the door, " Alfred."

Alfred looked up ruefully at his father, then back to Alexandra. " I like you." He said simply, before scampering after Alexander happily.

_It's good to hear. _" Feelings mutual, my friend." Alexandra called after him before turning to Violet with a sigh. " Well, I guess we'd better be going then."


	27. Of Zombies, STARS, and Jedi?

****

A/N: _Okay, before I get started here, I first want to announce that I finally have a picture of Ash and Alexis up on my Ashford fan-site! I think it turned out pretty well, all things considered, and finally you can see what these two characters look like! My site is called "Ashford Crazy", and for a handy link you can visit my regular fanfic author bio and click where it says "homepage." That should take you there. I also have a few bios up in addition._

Would you look at that, a more normal-sized chapter! Hopefully, I'll be able to get back to updating on a more frequent scale soonish. Thanks to everyone who's been with me so far, words cannot express how much I appreciate your support. If this chapter seems a little slow, ( and believe me, it will ) it's because I was working more on character development, so not much action this time, though that almost certainly will change by next chapter.

This story can't go on forever, and after chapter 28 things are going to start picking up rather nicely. Hope you enjoy!

Chapter 27

" What do you mean you've lost your virus! " Seth exclaimed. _Soooo not the best time for this to happen! _Here they were in the middle of a virus-infected, monster-infested mansion with no guns and no weapons, and now Alan's virus decided to go kaput? It all went to show you that sometimes things waited until the worst possible time to happen. _All part of the universe's plan to kick you while you're down._

Alan rose slowly, as if in a trance. His now nervous, now virus-free blue-green eyes flitted around the room, taking in nothing in particular. After a brief second he finally managed to focus them on Seth, wishing he didn't have to be the one to break the bad news to the young teen who viewed him as a guardian and protector.

" I don't know." His eyes fell back down to the rancid blood-filled carcass of Kenneth, and he shook his head once more.

The truth was that he didn't _know_ what was happening. He'd been just as surprised as his half-cousin by the sudden loss of his viral abilities. It didn't make sense, and not knowing what was going on--not being in _control _of the situation--only served to make him feel more helpless, more frustrated.

With a heavy stress-filled sigh, Seth stepped over the decaying bodies sprawled out at his feet on the floor and dropped into one of the hunter-green lounge chairs stationed in the tiny room-let. Alan could tell right away that he was worried; much more worried than he had been minutes ago by the sharp clap of thunder.

" Are you sure? " His younger cousin asked incredulously, " How do you _lose_ a virus. It's in your blood for Pete's sake! "

" Shhh." Alan touched a finger to his lips and motioned to the two open corridors to either side of them. " We don't want to draw attention to ourselves," he continued in a low half-whisper that was barely audible against the howling chaos outside, " the walls have ears, and we _don't_ want to run into any S.T.A.R.S. members if we can avoid it, especially my dad."

" Your dad? " Seth made no effort to disguise the pure horror in his voice. His brows creased and wrinkled up; his mouth drawn up slightly in one corner to give him an expression that was halfway between shock and _'oh no, not **this**!'_

" He...he doesn't have the virus now, does he? "

Alan shook his head, frowning. " I don't think so. I wouldn't bet money on it--or my life--but I think Dad didn't get his virus until after the tyrant stabbed him through the chest. All part of an elaborate hoax to fake his own death and therefore drop off Umbrella's radar for awhile."

" _Tyrant? _" Seth was not thrilled with this idea. In fact, the more he learned about it, the more he was starting to hate these un-planned trips through time. Some things in the past were best left that way.

Alan's frown deepened. Of the few things he absolutely despised, tyrants definitely made the list. " Yeah. Nasty sucker too, from what I heard. If I had my virus I could easily beat him."

" But you don't," Seth was quick to point out, " and just while we're on the topic, how did this happen? You lose your virus often? "

Now Alan was pacing, worry and stress charged up to the max. " No, nothing like this has ever happened before. I'm just as surprised as you are. One moment I'm examining a body, and the next my super-senses just go out the window. My sense of smell is back to normal. My sight's back to normal. I feel almost deaf. It's like someone flicked a switch and turned all my viral abilities off."

" Don't suppose you'd have any idea how to turn them back on? " Seth tried hopefully.

Alan kicked the zombie-corpse with the toe of his boot. What a horrible trip _this _was shaping up to be. " None whatsoever. I don't even know what _caused_ it, much less how to fix it. The only thing I can think of is that maybe Veronica's time-mojo hex thing somehow counteracted my virus."

" But that wouldn't make sense..."

" Look around you," Alan interrupted, waving his hand around the room to indicate where they were and the gory mess staining the carpet, " _None_ of this makes sense. Witches, sorceresses, time-travel, Hylens. We're not in the world of science anymore, we're in the world of _magic_." As if on cue, thunder exploded overhead, momentarily eclipsing all other sounds and shaking the very foundation of the Spencer Mansion.

Seth gripped the armrests of his seat very tightly, the tips of his nails piercing polyester and drawing a white cotton-y substance from below the surface. Alan continued to pace, reminding the nervous teen of a bear in a zoo.

" Magic changes everything. Since my virus has never up and quit before, the only thing I can assume is that Veronica's hex for a worst-case scenario had something to do with it."

" That would suck."

" I'm not thrilled myself," Alan grumbled dejectedly, " but when you think about it, it wouldn't make sense for Angelique to want to declaw me if she wants me to have half a chance of bringing back the Hylen piece. Veronica, on the other hand, would have every reason to want me to fail." _Man, I feel as weak as a kitten. Is this...normal? Like how Chris and Seth and everybody else feels every waking moment? Odd...I'd almost forgotten what it was like. _ Strange to imagine a time when having all five senses decreased so much would have felt normal. _I've had my virus for so long that I'm starting to forget what it was like before._

A few feet away, the picture of tense, Seth lifted a hand to his forehead, trying to figure things out. " Okay, so you've lost your Mighty Mouse abilities. We don't know whether your virus went dormant, whether it's gone for good, or if it's ever coming back."

" I certainly wouldn't object if it were to come back but...right." Alan nodded grimly, his attention divided equally between Seth and keeping an ear out for danger. If he remembered S.T.A.R.S. tales of horror right, this mansion was full of nasty little surprises. One could never be too careful.

" We have no weapons..." Seth trailed off, not meaning to finish.

Alan thought a moment, then reached down into the top of one of those long, black boots he was wearing and produced a combat knife like magic from within the folds of a hidden sheath.

" Wrong. I have Old Trusty."

Seth blinked like an owl brought out into daylight. " That's it? "

The blonde-haired S.T.A.R.S. elite fingered the blade lovingly, pleased to find the weapon razor-sharp. It wasn't a magnum but it'd do in a pinch. It'd _have _to do--they were running out of options here.

" Pretty much. Unless you have anything." He shrugged casually.

It was Seth's turn to frown. One glance at his present attire--the white Nike sneakers, the blue jeans, and that silly green pterodactyl poised in over-exaggerated show of wings, beak, and claws--and he knew he wasn't going to be coming up with weapons of mass destruction. It was almost embarrassing. Whereas Alan was dressed halfway like a seasoned professional in all the snappy black gear bearing secret weapons compartments, here he was in clad in his kiddie clothes as if he were on his way out to a movie with friends some Saturday night.

The less-than-proud Redfield shook his head sadly. _A fine help I'm going to be in a fight. _ " Nadda. I don't remember where I'm from or what my life was like, but being as how I'm not equipped with machine guns and dressed in ultra-cool body armor it's a pretty safe bet I'm not Terminator."

Alan turned the blade of his knife in so that the sharp end was pointed at him and offered the handle to Seth. " Here. You should have the weapon then. I may have lost my powers, but I'm still a highly trained fighter. I can improvise."

Never one to decline an offer, Seth's fingers closed on the black-plaster handle. " Thanks." It was a genuine, heart-felt remark. Then an idea presented itself, and he pointed the knife at Kenneth's messy form. " Not to be er...disrespectful or anything, but maybe he has something you could use."

At this, Alan knelt down over his fallen comrade once again, mentally numbing himself to the gory spectacle before him. " Let's see..."

Biker-gloved fingers pried opened the unfortunate man's jacket and felt along the rough lining of his pockets, searching for anything that could be of use. For being a S.T.A.R.S. Bravo member, Kenneth had sure been ill-equipped. The gun-holster at the side of his pants was as empty as his pockets, ( probably taken by a surviving teammate in order to save his or her own life ), and the examination of his jacket compartments turned out only a crumpled memo about a S.T.A.R.S. meeting dated back in early June and a roll of some unappetizing _Starburst_ candies.

Alan felt his stomach flip-flop, and not just because the guy was horribly mutilated. _He sent them this way. Dad **knew** they were going to be slaughtered and he just didn't care. To him they were all nothing but combat-data. Inconsequential. This poor sap never even stood a chance._ The cold efficiency of his father's mind disturbed him. Wesker had set this all up with the sole intent of killing his entire team.

It had dang near worked, too. No wonder Chris, Jill, and Rebecca never wanted to talk about the Spencer Mansion. Experiencing it in person was much worse in reality than just hearing stories about it.

What had Kenneth's life been like? What had his dying thoughts been as the zombie ripped into his throat? Most importantly, had he ever suspected his own Captain Wesker of setting him and the others up?

Alan thought it was unlikely. Based on what he'd heard, it had taken Alpha Team awhile to figure out that Wesker was betraying them. _Of course, I only have my father's version of events. Who knows what really happened?_

There. His hand touched something hard and metal; the blade of a knife. Sometime during Kenneth's struggle with the zombie it had gotten lodged on the wrong side of his outfit and was now trapped almost all the way under his belly. Alan pulled it free, thinking all the while that the zombie must have taken the Bravo member awfully swiftly for him to not have the time to reach for it. The mirror-like blade was as clean as a whistle, and the word **_S.T.A.R.S. _**was inscribed in italic bold print in the small upper-corner just before blade met hilt.

" Sweet. Now we _both _have knives." Seth chirped with slightly falsified cheer, " Combat. Knife. The last two words in the line of weaponry. A seasoned veteran's first choice against legions of the undead. Who needs expensive bullets or fancy viruses when we can just hack our way through the opposition? " To demonstrate, he held Alan's original knife up in proud display, creating awkward exaggerated mock-slashes through the air at an imagined zombie which probably would have bitten his head off by now if it were actually there.

Alan smiled faintly, but the action was half-hearted. While it was nice to see that Seth hadn't lost his sense of humor, he couldn't help but to notice that the dreaded combat knife hadn't done the late Kenneth much good, nor had any of the surviving S.T.A.R.S. members bragged of it's invaluable use in battle. They had survived almost solely through the use of firearms. Being the most elite of the two teams, it only stood to reason that the Alphas would have had better weapons than their compatriots.

Tilting the shiny surface at just the right angle, Alan blinked at his own reflection in the blade of his new weapon. Smooth peach skin, blue-green eyes, and rebellious dark-blonde bangs that refused to succumb to the mighty power of hair-gel and other various styling liquids all stared back up at him.

He grimaced slightly, thinking how those bangs always made him look so young and boyish. Perhaps it was wanting to grow up too quickly, perhaps it was his own personal dislike of the boy bands that wore their hair in a similar fashion, but the fact remained that Alan wasn't particularly fond of being mistaken for a teenager. _And the scowl's genetic. Fancy that._

Unsettling.

Not for the first time in his life, it occurred to the frequent-shades-wearing blond just how much he resembled his father. They weren't even close to being identical, and a stranger in the same room with them would have no trouble telling them apart, but a lot of their facial features were strikingly similar. The biggest difference was that Alan was was more than twenty years younger than Wesker and as a result looked a lot like a younger, fresher version of his father. In addition his chin was a little more rounded and the inflection in his cheeks was a little less pronounced than it was in Wesker.

__

Still...I can see why Chris always jumps when I catch him off-guard. With looks like these it's hard to forget who I'm related to. His eyes blinked involuntarily, as though he were startled by his own reflection. A thought had just presented itself in a sudden illuminating flash, and it wasn't a pretty one.

_Oh god, in this mansion, with nobody ever having seen me before in their lives with the exception of Enrico, and the dark clothes I'm dressed in..._spur-of-the-moment in a poorly-lit room or area there was a good chance a S.T.A.R.S. member would mistake him for Wesker, especially since they wouldn't be expecting to see anyone else who looked like their soon-to-turn-traitor captain running about in such a dangerous and remote place.

_Rats._

Suddenly those boyish bangs didn't seem like such a bad thing after all. They would help set him apart from Wesker, which could only work to his advantage because under these circumstances being mistaken for his father was not a good thing, especially once the team learned the truth. Barry or Enrico could decide to take a shot at him before they even realized who it was. Which would only lead to _another_ set of questions.

From his comfy position on the lounge chair, Seth rose, making a point to keep his eyes off the gruesome scene stretched out at his feet. Lord only knew he already had enough of those grotesque images burned into his brain to last a lifetime.

He studied his companion thoughtfully, and then, as if reading his mind, asked, " So what are we going to tell the other S.T.A.R.S. if we run into them? What's the cover story? I thought about saying we got lost while playing a super-intense game of paintball, but then I thought nah--that's treading a bit too far into the unbelievable territory, especially since we don't have any of the equipment and even if we did we'd be crazier than the Ashfords to be playing paintball in the middle of the night up in the mountains in the middle of _nowhere_."

Alan lowered his knife. " Paintball? Nah. I'm thinking more..." he froze, a look of helpless frustration worming it's way across his features.

What _were_ they going to say if they ran into Chris, Jill, or Rebecca? The truth was out of the question. They'd think he and Seth had perhaps stayed in a lab too long inhaling dangerous chemicals. That was, if they didn't shoot them outright just out of suspicion. So what did that leave? His brain reached for a quick explanation.

" ...we could say we were curious about the reports of the killings going on around here and came to investigate on a dare or something. They wouldn't think we were very smart, but at least that explanation's halfway believable. Kids _do_ do very stupid things on dares. It's the whole macho image us men have to live up to."

Seth nodded, a little embarrassed that the first thing he'd been able to think up on a whim had been _paintball_.

He ran the scenario over in his mind: _What were we doing out here Ma'am? Oh nothing much, really. Just a nice game of paintball up in the mountains during a thunderstorm. It's a real man's sport you see. The zombie-dogs make it extra challenging and we already lost the other players. This is super-paintball-extreme--where saving your life becomes as much a challenge as winning the game! Riiiiiight. Not really used to having to concoct explanations out of thin air. Or am I?_

He tilted his head curiously, as if observing something his relative could not see. Troubling that he wasn't able to remember certain little facts about himself. Then another though came to mind.

Not taking his eyes off the badly corroded portrait of a landscape which happened to be the object of his stare at the moment, he asked, " How many of the S.T.A.R.S. were traitors? I know your dad was but I can't remember if there was anyone else...who's safe to run into? "

Alan took such a long time to answer that at first Seth imagined he wasn't going to. The young Wesker had a somewhat troubled, somewhat disturbed look on his face. " I know your parents are safe, obviously. Rebecca's safe...any of the Bravo Team should be too, unless there's something I don't know about. None of them really know what's going on at this point. We are going to be in some serious trouble if we run into my dad. He'll recognize me right off the bat, and I'm not going to be able to explain why I look six years older. You...you he'll probably want to use as monster-chow." He massaged his temple lightly, feeling a headache coming on, " Other than that, we don't want to run into Barry or Enrico. Barry's in cahoots with my dad because he threatened his family. He's pretty good friends with the rest of the S.T.A.R.S., especially Chris, but he's a desperate man and it's hard to predict what he'd do to a stranger at Dad's whim. Enrico knows at some point that his captain's a traitor and will be very suspicious of any new people suddenly popping into the scene. Unfortunately, I happen to resemble my father, and that's going to make things difficult, especially where the two of them are concerned. After the monsters and zombies, my biggest challenge is going to be not getting mistaken for _'Captain Wesker' _in some dark place at the wrong time."

" You could say you're Wesker's little brother." Seth suggested, " That would explain your looks and give you a better reason for wanting to check this place out. You were curious what your big brother was doing. I'll be the friend who just tagged along for the ride."

" That might work, except that my dad doesn't _have _a younger brother. Well, he did, but he died in a fire when he was two."

" S.T.A.R.S. wouldn't know that, would they? "

Alan shook his head. " Probably not. My dad doesn't like to talk much about his family."

" What was his name, this uncle you lost? "

" Joseph." Alan said the name with an almost total lack of emotion. Obviously, he'd never known the kid.

Seth grinned. " Voila! Now you have a new alias--Joseph Wesker! "

" It isn't going to fool my dad. But..." Alan pursed his lips in thought, " maybe it won't have to. That way, if we come into contact with some of the S.T.A.R.S. and they accidentally inform my dad that his 'brother Joseph' is here, well, he'll know I'm an imposter, but it will unnerve him that there's someone out there that _knows _he had a brother Joseph. Yeah." A slow smile spanned his lips, " That could work. Dad and Enrico would have to see me themselves to recognize me."

Seth stepped over the bodies to stand alongside his cousin. " That's the idea! It's perfect. I'll just be the friend." He chewed his lower lip, uncertain. " I...I don't look too much like either of my parents, do I? "

" Not really." Alan verified, eyeing his cousin over up and down, " Well...you do look a teeny bit like Chris, and I can see some of Jill in you too, but just a little. Not enough to have to do any explaining. Don't worry about it; I'm Chris's nephew and I don't look a _thing_ like him. You'll be fine. At least you don't have to look like the guy who's going to have a whole lot of people angry at him before he night's over."

" True." Seth's gaze drifted down he hall they'd just came from. " So any idea where to start searching for this magical stick? Or the glowy red orb? I don't know about you, but I'd like to limit my time here as much as possible. Did Angelique say we had eight hours to find this before we'd be whisked back no matter what, or will we appear back as soon as we find it? "

Alan's smile slipped. " I'm not sure. I really hope it's the latter. The spell may be giving us eight hours...well, less now that we've spent at least twenty minutes in here gabbing...but the mansion sure isn't. This place is going to explode sky-high at dawn."

Seth threw up his hands. " Great! How comforting to know that we could explode even _after_ we've found the Hylen! It'd like a really good dream, y'know? Things just keep getting better and better." He started out the way they'd came. " Well, much as I'd love to stay and chat until the bomb goes off, we'd better get moving."

Not one to argue with good sense, Alan followed close behind. " What, you're not afraid of the zombies and hunters all of a sudden? "

Seth turned his head, a playful spark of mischief dancing across those fudge-brown eyes. He offered Alan a maniacal grin. " Nah, I have the trusty combat knife, remember? " He bobbed his head up and down energetically, " Final words in weaponry. Jedi eat your heart out."

They re-entered the dining room, and, when nothing jumped out to grab them, continued on their less-than-merry way.

Neither one of them knew where they were going. Alan was following Seth, and Seth thought this was the way Alan wanted to go. Not that it mattered anyway. When you were in a scavenger hunt in unfamiliar territory it didn't really make much difference _which_ direction you decided to go.

" Wait a sec," Seth continued, re-kindling his fire of thought and finding a familiar topic comforting, " We could be like Jedi, you know? These knives are lightsabers and the enemy did something to your midi-chlorian..."

From behind, Alan rolled his eyes but smiled in spite of himself. Kid couldn't remember the really critical stuff, yet he seemed to know plenty about _Star Wars_.

" I'm a more Han-Solo type guy myself," Seth declared proudly, even though it was already very obvious to his blond-haired cousin that he had about as much in common with Han-Solo as he did Emperor Palpatine, " and you," slowing his pace, he turned back a moment to catch Alan's eye, " You're like Luke Skywalker! "

Alan nodded. _Oh what the hey. Can't be serious **all **the time. _" Yep. I'm Luke. Complete with Darth Vader as my father."

Seth grinned broadly and turned his attention back to where he was going. " Hopefully you'll have better luck than Luke with your hand though."

" It balances out," Alan said wistfully, happy to have an interlude from the usual morbid topics of zombies, betrayal, and mutilation, " I may have my hand, but at least in the end Luke was able to convince his father to turn away from the dark side of the force. No such luck with my old man yet."

" No arguments here."

They reached the double-doors at the end of the room; the very same they'd had their backs turned to initially when they'd first appeared. Here Seth paused, uncertain. After all that had happened, it was a fair statement to say that his nerves were more than just a little on the jumpy side. They were about to trek into unfamiliar territory; what lay just beyond the Dining Room of Doom? It bothered him to think that there could very well be a zombie or other beast out there just waiting to sink it's teeth into him; enjoy that nice, warm blood, fresh entrails..._What am I **thinking**! _A quivering hand hovered just over the latch, and he realized he'd been staring at the door.

_Um...on second thought..._swiftly, he turned to Alan, nearly jabbing him with his knife in the process.

Alan leapt back instinctively, both surprised and dismayed at this display of carelessness. " Hey! Careful with that thing! "

Outside the window, a heavy clap of thunder followed on the tail of a blinding flash of lightning. The whole manor shook with the roar of nature, and it was a miracle the glass pane windows didn't shatter under the stress. Heavy rain pelted the roof. The storm was right on top of them.

Seth flinched uncomfortably. He'd never really gotten completely over his fear of thunderstorms. While they didn't scare him as much now as they had when he was little, they still filled him with a sense of unease, like a black omen of impending doom.

" Alan, did Wesker tell you much about...I mean, what should we expect? "

" We should expect to see more zombies and lots of hunters. Possibly this..._thing_...called Lisa. As far as they lay of the land goes, I have no clue. Dad never drew me any maps. I'm afraid that unless you want to hear all the gruesome details about how each of the less fortunate S.T.A.R.S. died, I really don't know much that could help." Alan butted Seth's uncertain hand aside and opened the door. There was no sense in wasting time worrying about circumstances they couldn't control anymore than the weather outside.

Not that he could blame Seth for being scared, but now that they were in this situation with no way out they were just going to have to deal. _Besides, _the firm voice of logic pointed out, _Rebecca, Chris, Barry, Jill, and Wesker all survived this mansion--how hard can it be_? There was not a moment to lose. It was long past time to get this show on the road.

They quicker they found the Hylen, the quicker they could leave.

Hopefully.

A large drawing room covered in red carpet stretched out before them. To the left was a fancy staircase that went up to the second story before splitting into two connected catwalks running the circumference of the room. To the right an overly-large polished mahogany door sat silent, waiting for guests who would never come. Dead ahead were two less-elegantly dressed doors leading to parts unknown. Gentle candlelight flickered over the room, working in part with the lighting fixtures which contained bulbs each about 75 watts too dim to be of much good on their own. Somebody trying to save money on electricity, no doubt. Like the Spencers couldn't afford proper lighting.

_Decisions decisions. _Alan stepped out first and crept halfway across the room, reminding his comrade of a wary mouse leaving it's den to survey new surroundings. It struck him as odd that a typewriter should be sitting all by itself on a wooden lamp-table just barely big enough to accommodate it. What was more, it was right next to the stairs. All in all probably not the best place to put a typewriter, especially when you took into account all the interruptions the typist was sure to have to endure during the course of a normal day.

" The funny places people leave typewriters." Alan shook his head, smiling faintly at the image of a zombie typing about his daily doings.

Eager to get a better look, Seth darted in, eyes sweeping the piece of paper stuck in the machine before he'd even come to a full stop.

" Hey! It's got something written on it! "

" Really? " Alan cocked an eyebrow in mild surprise. " Let me see." He joined Seth in front of the antique, and quickly saw that his friend was right--there was indeed a line of typing on the exposed sheet.

It read simply: _God have mercy on those who enter this unholy place._

Seth and Alan exchanged puzzled looks.

Seth was first to speak. " Who do you think left it? "

Alan shrugged. " Probably one of the S.T.A.R.S. members. One thing's for sure, whoever left it had a point."

The wild scratching of claws against wood quickly diverted the duo's attention to the main door, which obviously led outside. It was a little hard to hear in all the wind, rain, and thunder, but whatever was doing the scratching seemed pretty intent on getting inside.

" That's not promising." Seth understated, his gaze latched firmly on the front door. It was too much to hope for that whatever was doing it would suddenly decide to give up and go away. That kind of thing just never happened, especially not to Redfields. He stared down at the combat knife he held in his hand as if it had suddenly changed into a blunt butter-knife.

What had he called it before?

Oh yes--a lightsaber.

For some strange reason, it was sure hard to picture it as one now.

" Devil Dogs." Alan said with a cool calmness that Seth envied, " Umbrella calls them cerberuses, but I don't think that's a fair name because they don't have three heads like the mythical dog of Hades. Basically they're just dogs infected with the T-virus. Faster and therefore more dangerous than zombies, but they're not invincible."

" Neither are we. Do you think they can get in? "

" Welll..." Alan trailed off, memories of past encounters surfacing to mind. Devil Dogs, he knew, were unusually clever for T-carriers. When they couldn't get in one way, they'd run around and look for weak places until they found another way.

Once back in Canada--not long after he'd first gotten his virus, in fact--he and Wesker had been sent to a private residence on a mission to steal some important files and chemicals before leveling the place to the ground. Well, as it had turned out, the owner had had a secret hobby of collecting various T-infected creatures and confining them in cages for study. Not surprisingly, when this guy discovered two of HCF's most powerful agents were poking around his house, he'd gotten panicked and freed all of his little 'pets' to deal with them. Alan remembered that when the cerberuses learned they couldn't reach him in one room by pawing at the door, they'd run off, and at first he'd thought they'd given up and went in search of easier prey. He'd been wrong. Not to be outdone, the persistent dogs had actually found their way into the basement and came up at him through a laundry chute he hadn't even noticed was there. It appeared that the T-virus didn't affect their excellent sense of smell.

Sadly for the cerberuses, their attempt to bring down a hearty meal ended in tragedy when the T-2 enhanced Alan either shot them or smashed their skulls in under his boots. But it just went to show what extremes these sneaky creatures would go through in order to feed.

" ...maybe not _that_ way."

" I don't like the way you said that." Seth returned, his voice a little steadier than it had been moments ago._ No sense in chickening out over a bunch of zombie dogs. I should save the real freak-fit for Tyrant and the last few seconds before the bomb is about to go off. There'll be plenty of time for freaking then._

" Arrrooooooooo! " A sharp ear-murdering howl cut the stormy night air, much too close for comfort. The creature scratching at the door increased it's efforts to get in, clawing and rending the wood at a strenuous rate, as if it could somehow sense that there was tasty food just beyond the man-made barrier.

" Arooooooo! " A second cerberus joined it, and within moments at least three dogs were involved in the haunting racket.

" I don't know about you," Alan remarked, casting Seth a nervous eye, " but I like dogs much better when they're not trying to eat me."

Seth's eyes were glued on the door. He halfway expected it to splinter away at any second. " It's this thing I have about rotting flesh," he contributed, " It's not me. A hundred bucks says these knives aren't going to be of much use if the pack gets in."

" You're right." Alan agreed grimly, " We'd best get moving then. I have absolutely no idea where to go, but at least the front door is ruled out." He scanned the room once more, taking in the stairs, railing, and upper catwalk.

The Hylen could be in one of those rooms up there.

Then again, it could very well be in a toilet bowel down in a basement-level personal dormitory for all he knew. Curse those vague details. _Angelique's all like, 'fetch the Hylen', and then she doesn't even tell us where the blasted thing **is**._

It occurred to him that perhaps the witch didn't know. No-one was perfect, and if she _had _known wouldn't it have made sense for her to tell them?

Seth noticed Alan's eyes roaming over the upper level. He'd been thinking about the blue door to the left, but one guess was as good as another in this madhouse.

Alan was just about to suggest they go upstairs when the sound of a door being opened up there killed the words in his throat.

Someone was coming!

Acting out of pure instinct, Seth bolted for the blue door, Alan in hot pursuit. Whoever--or _whatever_--was upstairs, they could hear him walking now, his footfalls heavy and coordinated. 

_Clunk,clunk,clunk..._


	28. Infection

**Chapter 28**

Upon reaching the door, Seth threw it open and dashed blindly inside. He could have been racing into a coven of hungry zombies for all he knew. Right behind him, a bit more careful in his actions, Alan closed the door swiftly, gently clicking the lock into place just to be on the safe side. _I wonder who that was?_

It had sounded like a man.

Barry, perhaps?

Alan's heart-rate sped up involuntarily as nightmare images of his last encounter with Barry flashed across his mind with brief but brilliant clarity. It was all a flash-sequence of events: the way the giant bird-creature had dropped Barry onto a giant spear wielded by a ten foot tall stone tribesman, the way he himself had pulled that spear down, thinking the man dead...

Barry hadn't been dead.

Much to the surprise of Alan and Claire, he had managed a few last coherent sentences before mutating into a horrible tyrant-nemesis beast and choking the daylights out of an unprepared Alan.

_I had to do it. I had to kill him. He would have killed Claire. He damn near killed **me**. _It was an unpleasant thing to think about. Justified or no, he'd still hated to do it. He'd never been overly fond of Barry, and the feeling, he was sure, had been entirely mutual, but he couldn't shake that pesky guilty feeling that surged up every time he found his mind lingering on the subject.

Other than Wesker, he'd been the only one to ever kill a fellow S.T.A.R.S. member.

Ok, Barry had been mutated and completely de-humanized, and he would have gladly killed Claire if given half a chance, but that didn't change the fact that Alan had rammed a fifteen foot spear through the back of his head. It was a secret he shared only with Claire. As far as anyone else knew, Barry had died--while still in human form, thank you very much--when the giant bird creature had dropped him onto the spear. That's the story they were sticking to. Nobody else needed to know the ugly truth.

Trying not to bother himself with memories of things best left buried, Alan instead turned his attention onto the new room they now occupied. Much to his relief, there wasn't a horde of zombies waiting there for them. Ironically, the area gave off vibes of tranquility. It was an art-room. Portraits and paintings either hung from or lined the walls, and here and there various pots, vases, and other artsy craft cluttered the floors and shelves. A life-sized white marble statue of the bust of an Ancient-Greek style woman with a pitcher slung over one shoulder rose up on a pedestal in the very center of the cramped room. Someone had pushed a step-ladder up to it's side for reasons unknown.

Seth felt the air expel from his lungs. At least he hadn't picked a door containing something worse than whatever it was they were trying to escape in the first place. Being in no immediate danger, he and Alan froze, pressing their ears against the door; Alan silently cursing the absence of his virus which would have made the job of hearing ten times easier.

The catwalk person was all the way downstairs now, tromping around heavily in big boots. It was either a S.T.A.R.S. member or else a very convincing zombie. With those piercing steak-knife claws on their feet, your average hunter was going to have a difficult time donning a pair of Brahamas.

The footfalls themselves sounded to Alan a little too heavy to belong to Rebecca or Jill, which meant that they were probably dealing with either Barry, Chris, or Wesker.

Of course, he had no way of knowing where Enrico was at this particular instance in time, but from all that he had gathered from his father and the other S.T.A.R.S. Enrico had pretty much been in the tunnels almost--if not all--of the entire time since the Alpha Team had arrived.

The best strategy, therefore, was to remain unseen. If their mystery person turned out to be Chris they'd be okay, but no way was Alan going to trust Barry or his own traitorous father.

Having had less experience than Alan in the fields of tracking and stealth, Seth couldn't even tell if the person in the hall was male or female, though he had definitely reached the consensus that it was human. He waited to see what Alan would do, thinking that if it had been just him he might have taken to hiding by now. Somewhere out there Wesker was on the prowl. He really wasn't looking forward to a confrontation with his little sister's killer.

For a tense moment, the stranger seemed to be getting closer. Both men felt their muscles tighten, the fight-or-flight instinct preparing to kick in. But no; a few more paces and the footsteps diminished before fading altogether after the unsteady creak of an old door.

" Who do you think it was? " Seth whispered, still afraid to talk in normal tones.

" I'm not sure." Alan admitted slowly, " It sounded like a man...probably either your father or mine. Maybe Barry."

Seth looked uncomfortable. " Barry? What was he like? "

Alan frowned and re-sheathed his combat knife by stabbing it partially through his jeans pocket. It was unorthodox, but at least it would be available at a second's notice without him having to stoop over and reach into his boot.

" He didn't like me, but to be fair we never actually met until _after _my father had betrayed the S.T.A.R.S. and killed his wife and two daughters. So I suppose I can't really judge him _too_ harshly for thinking I was a demon-spawn hellbent on the destruction of everything that ever meant anything to him. I know what it's like. I was pretty upset with the people who killed my mom."

" That's terrible." Seth sighed sadly, " Just what type of a person _is_ your father anyway? "

" The type you don't want to be around." Alan stated point-blankly, " If we end up separated somehow in this mess, and you happen to come across my dad, run. Very fast. _Don't _let him catch up with you, because he _will_ kill you. Can't take a risk that you might be someone who knows the truth and could expose him."

" Do you know his plans? "

" Oh yes." Alan walked over to the highlight of the room, making a face of disgust at the poor craftsmanship put into the sculpture. Really, this 'Woman Drawing Water' as the plaque so lovingly read looked more like a dog-faced Mensa reject who maybe had Down's Syndrome. The lack of detail put into her facial features and expression was downright appalling. _Umbrella's bad taste in art never ceases to amaze me. How could anyone actually be proud of this travesty? I've seen better sculptures in grade-schools. What bothers me most is that someone actually sat down and planned this out, and put so much time into it._

" What are they? "

" Hm? Oh." His cousin's question snapped the former T-2 carrier out of his bad-art daze. " Wesker? He's probably running around admiring his handiwork..." he paused, realized he didn't rightly know for sure, then continued, " ...or possibly down in the tunnels killing Enrico...eh...I honestly don't know. It depends on exactly what time-frame we're in. I know that in the end he releases the tyrant and injects himself with the T-2 virus--maybe not exactly in that order--but without a clock handy I can't make an accurate statement. He could be anyplace, doing _anything_. Which is why we need to be really careful. I don't know how our interactions with people in the past could affect the future, but we'll want to keep things running as close as to how they actually did as possible. I wouldn't trust Barry much, but better to run into him than my dad. Everyone else should be okay."

" Affirmative." Seth agreed, and Alan was surprised he had the word in his vocabulary.

" Affirmative? Heh, sounds like you've had military training."

Seth shrugged helplessly. _This whole not remembering my past thing really bites. _" For all I know I could be in the army. It's really weird. It's like, I know certain things, yet I'm at a loss to explain _how _I know them--I just do. And this, my second little trip back in time, has lead me to the conclusion that time-travel is for the birds and that guy in _'Time Machine'_.

At this, Alan tilted his head towards the ceiling, lost in thought. " Do you think it's really like that? "

" Huh? " Seth's blank expression showed that he didn't follow.

" Time travel," Alan reiterated, " No matter what that guy did, no matter how many times he went back into the past to save his girlfriend's life, he couldn't stop the same basic things from happening in some way or another. She still died."

" Well, yeah." Seth agreed, " She pretty much _had_ to die. If she hadn't, then her boyfriend wouldn't have had a reason to invent the time-machine and go back and save her. It's a paradox. For him to be able to go back into the past she has to die. But he could change minor events that didn't really affect him. I think that maybe the universe has a built-in paradox-stopper that prevents us from doing things that would drastically effect the future. Say, for example, I was to find a shotgun within the next few minutes here and decide to kill my mother. Of course I would never _actually_ do something like that, but let's pretend I did. I would hunt her down, but she would probably be incredibly hard to find because the universe would be fighting against me every step of the way. Even if I did find her, I would never be able to kill her. Some last-minute miracle or _major_ coincidence would pop up and save her every time, because it's just not possible for me to kill my mom if I never existed in the first-place to do so. None of my own actions can effect my existence. Now _you _might be able to kill her..." he shook his head, clearly mind-boggled, " I don't know. I'm not really sure about any of this. It's just a theory I have."

" Funny what you can learn from the movies." Alan mused, strangely excited by all the infinite possibilities. He lifted his chin and grinned mischievously. " So, what's _Star Wars: Episode Three _like? "

Seth frowned. " Don't remember. I know I must have seen it but...for some reason I can't remember any movies that came out after your time. There's a mental block there--like this whole part of my brain I can't access. Sorry, no spoilers for you."

Alan laughed quietly. " No problem. I suppose I'll be seeing it soon enough anyway." He felt his humor die away. " _If _we live that long."

" Big _'if'_." Seth went over to where a red curtain was drawn to cover the entrance of an art store-room. " I guess we'd better crack to it, or else we can _all_ forget about seeing Anakin's fall to the dark side." Parting the curtains, he slipped inside.

" True enough." Alan chose to start his search with a pile of dusty old boxes haphazardly thrown together under a green tarp. Flinging the latter aside, he began carefully sifting through the contents, looking for anything fitting the Hylen's description.

Not more than a few feet away, just beyond the drapes of red, Seth was quite surprised--if not unnerved--to discover that a deceased zombie had decided to take it's eternal nap right in the middle of his path. The labcoat-wearing virus-carrier was laying in the center of a pool of congealed blood and had it's arms and legs all sprawled out in unnatural positions; almost like it was trying to swim in the carpet.

Seth's eyes widened nicely as he took this all in. Much as he didn't like looking at flesh-eating dead people, something--a morbid curiosity, perhaps--kept him rooted to the spot. _Oh great, _he groaned inwardly, _Zombie-Lady. I wonder why she couldn't make it out of the house in time? As smart as Umbrella's scientists claim to be, you'd think they'd take precautions to ensure things like this didn't happen. Poor woman._

At least it _looked _like a woman; at this stage of decomposition it was a little hard to tell. She was laying facedown, a fact that Seth was eternally grateful for, and here and there the off little snip of long blonde hair still clung to what remained of the back of her rotted cranium. Sickening. Almost as sickening as the smell which emitted from the dead tissue.

Seth lurched back in an instant, instinctively covering his nose and holding his breath as a powerful wave of nausea set in. _Oh man, this reeks! Big time! _It wasn't enough to simply cover his nose; now he pulled his shirt up over it, putting all the rest of his energies into not throwing up. Easier said than done. There was just no knowing how _terrible_ something dead could smell until you let it rot in a room for a few weeks. Forget the boys' locker room: this was like breathing in the fumes over an open septic tank that was conveniently located right next to a landfill. This...this took '_stink' _to a whole new level. And beyond.

The stench getting the better of him, the memory-challenged teen was just about to turn and mosey right on back out the way he'd came when a glint from an upper shelf just past Ms. Zombie Scientist caught his eye. Part of the Hylen, perhaps?

Whatever it was, it was definitely noticeable.

Thinking it could be what he was looking for, Seth reevaluated the situation and noticed a few dark-red gunshot wounds to the dead T-carrier's head. The still form lie completely motionless in the gloom of the room.

Bullets to the head were usually fatal to zombies. Yet another fact that he wasn't sure how he knew, but hey, why complain? Satisfied that this brain-muncher was in fact down for the count and not merely lying in wait for her next meal, he stepped over the body carefully, his eyes fixed down for the off-chance his assumptions proved wrong.

Miss Zombie didn't stir.

Whispering a faint sigh of relief, and regretting it the very next second when his lungs were again forced to draw in contaminated air, Seth examined the contents of the shelf. There, laying among a few pallets and other artsy supplies, was a shiny...metal rod. _Nuts. _Seth frowned. Nothing fitting the Hylen's description was present.

Determined to at least make the trip worthwhile, he stretched up and stood on his tips-toes, using one hand for balance and the other to sorta feel his way along the highest shelf. His hand brushed something smooth, and oddly enough the object he pulled down was nothing less than a package of handgun bullets. _Well, that's strange. Might as well take them, just in case one of us ends up with a handgun. They're not doing any good just sitting here._

Law of survival: never waste _anything_. You never knew when you'd be getting more.

Meanwhile, in the other section of the art room, Alan was faring no better in his search for what now must surely be the most elusive of all mystical items. He rummaged through one last box before deciding it was useless and kicking the thing in frustration; unleashing a messy flurry of poorly-drawn pencil sketches.

_Ok, the guess-and-check method is **not** working here. Talk about finding a needle in a haystack. It could be **anywhere**_. _Under a bed, in a closet, behind a bookshelf, sitting inside a wastebasket...how are we supposed to know where to look? It'd take weeks to search every square inch of this mansion! Didn't Angelique have any clue **where**_ _Veronica might have put it?_

Of course not. The magics responsible altered the time for a worst-case possible scenario for the individuals trying to retrieve it. There was no-way Angelique or anyone else could have predicted what was going to happen.

_Which might also explain my virus, because God forbid I should breeze on through here and kill any monsters in my way. That would be FAR too easy. _Apparently, whatever mojo Veronica had going on here had decided that a virus-abled Alan was too powerful. Peachy. Things could never be fair with the Ashfords.

How would Veronica like to be stuck in this place and point in time without her magic? She should. Perhaps _that_ would straighten her out some.

A sudden crash like breaking glass followed quickly by " Aaaaah! Help me! Someone HELP! " quickly eclipsed all thoughts of Veronica, the Hylen, and time-travel. Someone was in danger! 

Without a second thought, Alan raced through the door straight ahead and found himself running into a curving hall with checkered linoleum floors and generous windows off to the right. The glass from one of said windows was already broken, and he stepped hurriedly over the remains of a dead cerberus that was polluting the floor with it's bodily fluids.

Just around the corner was Rebecca, already engaged in a life-and-death struggle with another very-much-animated cerberus that had her pinned to the floor. The beast had it's jaws locked on the barrel of her shotgun, spittle and blood flying from what still remained of it's once handsome muzzle as it thrashed it's head violently from side to side in an attempt to dislodge it's prey's weapon. Thank God it was too dumb to realize it'd have a better chance if it just forwent the gun and instead concentrated it's efforts on biting the tender young morsel _attached_.

Both dog and girl were carrying on their struggle smack-dab in the middle of a large collection of glass shards which had clearly been caused by the voracious carnivore's fearless entrance. The dog didn't seem to care that it's feet were getting split open, but Rebecca was in obvious discomfort. There was not a second to lose.

" Hey! Get off her! " Alan called, drawing his knife as he spoke and charging the animal.

It's attention diverted to this new possible threat, the cerberus relinquished the gun and readied it's jaws to attack. It was too late. A sharp kick to the ribs from Alan sent it sprawling across the linoleum with a pained _'yipe'_.

Even without his virus, Alan was still in good shape. He covered the floor between him and the walking carcass in a matter of seconds, pouncing on the animal just as it was regaining it's feet and skillfully driving his knife through it's deteriorated skull. With a piercing scream that was half yipe and half howl, the rancid beast collapsed to the floor under the heel of it killer's boot; fatally wounded but still clinging desperately to what semblance of life remained. Jerking it's head in a swift, unnatural arc, it tried to bring it's jaws around to bite it's assailant. Bloodied teeth closed on air as Alan pulled his ankle away in the nick of time, brought it up over the dog's head...and stomped down.

The squirming body beneath him instantly went limp. Congealed black blood oozed slowly from raw flesh already well on it's way to decomposition. Sickly pink and gray brain matter coated in gobs of bodily fluids in addition to other, nearly-unidentifiable substances, now colored the floor, the undersides of Alan's boots, and the sides of the walls. It wasn't pretty.

Alan looked down and scowled. _Why is it that everytime I go somewhere it always ends in me needing a sho_wer? _Yet another outfit I'm going to have to burn when I get home. It's a curse._

" What's...who? " No sooner had a relieved Rebecca rose up from the floor than she was very nearly bowled back down by Seth, who, upon hearing the ruckus unfolding in the not-so-far-off proximity, had followed Alan's lead out into the realm of possible danger.

Now he came to a screeching halt in front of the S.T.A.R.S. rookie, who was so surprised by his sudden appearance that she backed up rapidly and bumped noisily into a small wood-and-glass display case full of creepy Halloween-type paraphernalia.

" Oops! Sorry. Didn't mean to scare you." Seth apologized sheepishly, feeling about as in-place as a penguin in the middle of the Sahara. _Smooth move, Ex-Lax._

" Oh! I...I mean you..." Rebecca calmed down long enough to form words, her heart racing a mile a minute. She didn't like to think about how close she'd just come to a grisly death, and this stranger's sudden appearance had been unexpected. _What's going on here?_ Swiveling her head, she was awarded with a full view of the man who'd most-likely saved her life. Her eyes narrowed in confusion.

The stranger on the right was unfamiliar, but the man to her left looked a whole lot like...

" Captain Wesker? "

Alan shook his head, trying to appear cool and confident. " No. I'm your Captain's little brother Joseph." He gestured to Seth, " My friend Fernando and I came out to investigate this mansion on a dare, and then those creatures attacked..." he shook his head, resisting the urge to laugh out loud in response to the funny face Seth was making at being re-named 'Fernando', "...so we went inside. I heard you screaming and then...I'm just glad you're okay. There is something seriously _wrong _with this place."

It felt weird seeing Rebecca like this prior to the first time they'd actually met. The S.T.A.R.S. rookie-medic uniform with it's bright red plus standing out clearly against the white background of her vest made her look younger than she was somehow. Her reddish hair was short and a thin red headband hugged her forehead, ironically giving her an almost rebellious appearance. Her pant-legs were rolled up midway to her knees, leaving a small strip of bare flesh exposed just above the rims of her well-insulated standard-issue S.T.A.R.S. boots.

" Expecting a flood? " Seth teased light-heartedly, relieved that at least no-one had gotten hurt.

Rebecca gazed down at her boots like she'd never seen them before. " A...flood? "

Seth shrugged, hoping he hadn't somehow offended. " Yeah. 'Cause you're wearing you're high-waters and all."

Rebecca sent him a queer look. " High-waters? These are just standard..."

" Ah, don't pay any attention to Fernando," Alan grinned broadly, putting extra emphasis on the word '_Fernando'_, enjoying the way it made Seth nearly frown, " A guy who wears a green pterodactyl shirt could use his own fashion advice."

" Hey! " Seth shot Alan a disdainful look, " Pterodactyls are neat, Shades Boy! "

Alan brought up his pointer finger in the classic gesture, " Ah, but I'm not wearing my shades right now, am I? " There was just no beating the smug look on his face.

Seth rolled his eyes and coughed.

Alan's response to the unspoken jibe was a toothless grin.

Rebecca looked on, not quite sure how to react. Seconds ago she'd been involved in a life-and-death struggle with a dog who refused to stay dead, and now here she was with what were, as far as she could tell, two average teens with no evident special training who had just flown out of nowhere to her aid, killed the beast, and were now laughing at her high-waters and exchanging friendly banter. Like being trapped in a mansion full of flesh-eating zombies wasn't even a big deal.

Normal?

Nowhere near.

She and the rest of the team had been scared to death, and they were a highly-trained police force. There was no way, no way at all any of them could have foreseen this disaster. Zombies and mutants...mad scientists and top-secret cover-ups...it all seemed so surreal. Just so much to absorb. She'd been through more trials, more life-or-death experiences, in these past few hours then probably the whole of the rest of her life combined. Each passing second, each encounter she had with a creature of the undead was a challenge to keep her nerve and do the right thing. If Billy had taught her anything during their time together, it was not to let fear overtake you.

In the past, the reason why snakes had sometimes been thought to be able to hypnotize their prey was because a bird or small animal that ended up looking at them may become so frightened that it couldn't move. Zombies could have the same effect on people. The first few times she'd encountered such creatures, Rebecca remembered that she'd nearly been chow because of these freezing fits. It just hadn't felt _real. _ It had taken a while to accept, and since then she'd long learned that people that didn't come to terms with reality quickly enough were often killed by it. Call it natural selection.

By all rights, these two young men should be scared out of their wits.

Yet Joseph hadn't seemed bothered at all by the idea of tackling and killing a rabid zombie-dog. What was more he'd done it with _perfect _precision. Not the kind of thing she'd expect from an amateur. Then again, he _had _said he was Captain Wesker's little brother. _If that's the case, it's perfectly reasonable to assume he taught his brother some moves. _ It was easy to see that they were related--Joseph even _dressed _like Wesker.

Fernando, well...she hadn't been around the boy long enough to form any solid opinions. He probably hadn't meant anything personal by the joke about high-waters, and, she had to admit, she _did _look as though she were expecting a flood. He didn't appear to be very old--Rebecca mentally placed him at around 16--and she found herself feeling increasing comfortable around him.

Joseph was a different matter. There was something about him that had her a little nervous, and not just his striking resemblance to Wesker. Whereas his friend seemed like any other typical hormone-filled teenaged boy, Joseph had a more...sinister, aloof air about him. It was even a little unnerving the way he fixed her intently with those almost-hypnotic bluish eyes; like perhaps he was sizing her up for some unknown reason. He appeared older than Fernando...mid-twenties, perhaps?

" Joseph, just out of curiosity, how old are you? " Though she was trying her best to disguise it, the shakiness of her voice and the way that her eyes would not meet his for more than a couple seconds at a time betrayed her.

Alan had dealt with all kinds of people in his life, so he was good at reading the signs. Rebecca was shy of him, he knew, and likely suspicious as well. Just the question about his age had said that she was already having doubts about the brilliant cover-story he and Seth had concocted. Rebecca Chambers was a clever girl and if anyone could put two and two together, it was her. _Not good. She's already having second thoughts...plus I look like the guy that tried to kill her._

But had that happened yet?

How much did this Rebecca know?

" I'm twenty-three," Alan replied calmly, making a conscience effort to appear less threatening, " why do you ask? "

_Busted! _Rebecca looked at the floor. The last thing in the world she wanted to do right now was start something that could only get her in trouble in the long-run, especially something with Wesker's brother.

" Just curious. You seem older." Inside, though, her thoughts went more along the lines of: _Twenty-three? That seems kind of old to be investigating creepy mansions on a dare. And on restricted property, too. _The questions just kept mounting and mounting, _How did they make it past the dogs? Waitaminute here...how did they get here in the first-place? All of the roads leading up here were blocked off after the incident with the hikers. We needed helicopters. Granted, a road block probably wouldn't be that hard to get around...but still, doesn't seem like the brightest move on Joseph's part since trespassing is illegal and his brother's a cop..._

" I'm sorry, I don't think I caught your name."

Rebecca was stirred from her thoughts by '_Joseph's_' sudden statement.

Even though he knew perfectly well who she was, Alan saw the wisdom in asking her name right away lest he slip-up sometime in the near future and make her all the _more _suspicious.

" S.T.A.R.S. Bravo Team member Rebecca Chambers at your service." She gave a mock-salute, startling her company, " I'm a rookie medic..." Worry suddenly bloomed on her face as she remembered a very important detail. " ...and I have got to hurry and find Chris! I have something very important to tell him! "

Alan and Seth exchanged worried glances. Each was thinking the same thing: What _was _this very important something Rebecca needed to tell Chris? Was it something innocent, or was she going to tell them how she had run into two suspicious characters in the hall? It seemed unlikely that she would suddenly be so distrustful of people who had just saved her life, and speaking of which...

Something was wrong here. Alan could feel it in his gut, and he wondered if Seth was picking up on the same thing. _Rebecca is supposed to survive the mansion incident. But if I hadn't just came in and rescued her from that dog, who would have? In the normal timeline I wasn't here. There was no-one else there, and that cerberus had her pinned good. Not to undermine her abilities, but I don't see how she could have made it in such_ _circumstances. Could it be that Seth and I being here has **already**_ _started to affect the original chain of events? But how? We didn't even do anything significant! What could cause Rebecca to have that experience_ _that she normally probably would not have otherwise had?_

No matter how he looked at it, Alan just could not make sense of it, and this only worried him all the more. It just wasn't adding up. Something had been knocked off-kilter, but what? What could he and Seth possibly have done to cause Rebecca to have that encounter with the cerberus when and where she did?

Not a single thing he could think of should have influenced that. _Unless...and this is a disturbing possibility...unless something happened that we don't know about. This is not looking good. We'd better stay with her just in case._

Of course, that idea was not without it's complications. How were they going to both stay with Rebecca _and _search for the Hylen without appearing mondo-suspicious? And what of the other S.T.A.R.S.?

Maybe he was just blowing things out of proportion. Maybe Rebecca would have made it on her own without his help. _But it sure didn't **look** like it..._

Only an hour into the mission and already things were becoming complicated. The only thing he was certain about at this point was that he needed to find the Hylen, and he needed to find it quickly. End of discussion.

Alan bent down and pulled his gore-encrusted knife from it's fleshy sheath. Aside from being incredibly gross, it was as good as new and ready for the next virus-carrier thirsting to turn him into the main course. He wiped the blade off as best he could on the edge of one of the display cases.

Seth and Rebecca treated him with an odd look.

" What? " He held the knife up defiantly, " This is the only weapon I have and I don't want to lose it. Well, at least not until I get something better, anyway."

The answer appeared to satisfy Rebecca. She started back down the hall, towards the art room. " Sorry, I have to go! "

" Mind if we tag along? " Alan called, already keeping up with the rookie medic's brisk pace. _She's in a hurry to find Chris, but what does she have to tell him? _It might look a little suspicious to just ask outright. Rebecca was very perceptive, and being a perceptive individual himself, he could tell that the suspicion was riding high with Miss Chambers. _She knows we're not supposed to be here. She questions our cover-story. Clever girl_. Perhaps it ran deeper than that. The way she had looked at him...

Sometime during the course of the trip, Alan--a.k.a. _'Joseph'_---had ended up in the lead without consciously realizing it. As a result, he was first to fling open the door leading back out into the main hall. The mystery man had left; for all intent, the area should be safe by now.

It wasn't.

A large, muscular hunter was standing at the base of the stairs.aturally, it turned it's murderous gaze on the foolish prey that would dare enter it's territory.

Now, in the past, Alan had always enjoyed a degree of immunity from hunters. They either thought he was their 'master,' Wesker, or else realized he was related somehow. This, combined with the fact that they could usually sense his virus, didn't even earn him a spot on the list of the Hunter's Top Ten Choice Prey.

However, this particular hunter didn't read the top ten lists, and as far as it was concerned anything breathing was crunchy and tasted good. So when the door opened, and it saw that there was a treat inside, it leapt; a butt-ugly package of sickly mottled-green flesh, gnashing fangs, and long sickle-claws designed specifically for tearing and rending tissue. This was definitely not a creature you'd find at the veggie-bar.

Acting out of pure horror-driven instinct, Alan brought his arm up to protect his face, but it was all he had time for as the hideous mouth enclosed around his arm and diseased pocket-knife teeth sank into skin; polluting his blood with T-virus rich saliva.


	29. The Devil Is In The Details

**Chapter 29**

Rob wasn't sure how long he'd been wandering around lost in these hot, smelly, abominable tunnels. Felt like forever. One tunnel lead into another, and he'd lost track of all the times he'd thought he'd found a new path only to discover it eventually either made a nice loop back to the point he'd started from or outright ended in a dead-end.

What was it that Angelique had said?

Oh yeah: something about not losing the right path.

_Well how the freckled heck am I supposed to do that when I don't even know which was the right path to **start **with? _It was insane. The same person who had designed the infamous Minotaur Labyrinth had apparently whipped up _this _little dousy as well just for kicks. He rounded another corner for what had to have been the eighty-billionth time and found himself staring down another dark passage lit only by the deep primal red glow of the ancient runes carved so lovingly into the walls.

Rob blinked. Something about those symbols--the way they glowed a deep volcanic red, perhaps--was starting to have a kind of hypnotic effect on him. _Too long staring at these babies and I'll start seeing pink elephants. At least this path looks a little different than the other fifty. I think._

During the course of his trek through the base of Mt. Hell, he'd came across all sorts of the same glowing images emblazoned on the rough cave walls. He was starting to see a pattern in the way the runes were slapped together, which would have counted for a lot more if he could actually read them or even hope to halfway understand the message they were trying to convey.

_Follow the path with the runes...easy for **her** to say. _Rob rolled his eyes at the memory, wondering again why he'd let that wacko witch sucker him into coming down here in the first place. If this relic was so important, why didn't she get off her little witchy butt and find it herself? **_She_** should be the one down here. Maybe she could use some magic to translate this garbage to English. That way, should someone care to try and read it, they won't develop dyslexia attempting to do so.

-----

If Steve had been anymore frightened, he would have been dead. Running from a headless cat that could still claw, hiss, and chase after him despite the fact that it shouldn't be able to was bad enough, but meeting head-on with it's big cousin, the giant black...demon/cat/wolf/bat...that looked like it regularly made pudding out of Nemesises and T-2 carriers was just one experience he could have lived without.

The thing was _hideous_. Downright _evil _looking, with two balls of raging hellfire in place of eyes and a whole snout-full of crushing teeth and fangs that made the giant crocodile Claire had talked about fighting seem a welcome alternative. He hadn't really gotten a good look at the rest of the creature--he'd been much more concerned with pulling a one-eighty and getting the hell _outta_ there--but he'd been pretty sure there was something wrong with the way it had been proportioned; like it's head didn't really fit on it's body and there was something weird about it's feet. Up until that point, he'd been running from the cat, and, well, once he'd laid eyes on _that_ sucker leering down at him, Mr. Headless kitty had simply gotten trampled.

It was all about the lesser of two evils.

So, like any sensible person would do in his dilemma, Steve's plan of action had been dashing around blindly in the dark and praying to God he'd lose his persistent little buddies before he ended up crashing into a dead-end and thus fulfilling the blood-wall's morbid prophecy of doom. He was in such a hurry that at first he didn't even notice when angry red lines began slashing their way across his skin, as if he were running through an invisible barrier of razor blades.

" Aaaaaaahhh! " It took approximately three seconds for the pain from the inexplicable wounds to sink in. The adrenalin-pumped newlywed looked down to see a multitude of tiny thread-thin cuts weaving crimson spider-web designs at an alarming rate across his arms. The scariest thing of all was that these were wounds inflicted by _nothing_.

Steve's eyes fluttered in horror, his hands swatting feverishly at an imaginary foe that was, apparently, hovering inches from his face. " What's happening to me! " _Does the air have claws now! Is this what that creepy voice meant by _'Your life is forfeit.'?

It wasn't fair! How was it _his_ fault that he'd been whisked away by elfin magic to a _'sacred ground' _that felt a heck of a lot more like the demonic equivalent of a Nazi death camp? How was it _his _fault he'd accidentally stumbled into gym-like area he now dubbed 'the doggy death room'? If he'd known in advance what awaited in these abominable tunnels, would he ever have entered in the first place?

No way!

Whoever ran things around here was being grossly unfair.

" It's not like I _asked _to be here! " Steve shrieked, his voice rising higher and higher, " It was an accident! I never meant to trespass, honest! Please, just let me go! I'll never come back again, ok? I'm sorry! "

Dead end.

Steve's foot caught something on the ground and he fell, clawing madly at something crawling up his skin. Pins and needles! Pins and needles all over! Burning, blazing hot fire engulfing his body! The skin all along his arms and the back of his neck began to swell and prickle up with goosebumps.

" Hellllp meeeeee! " In a fear-gripped panick, Claire's husband twirled around and struggled to regain his footing. He was too late. No sooner had he risen halfway to his feet than the demonic hellbeast was there; red eyes raging, gaping maw open to display those deadly teeth among which a black-forked tongue darted in and out.

It well have been a hundred degrees in that cave. One look into the face of death itself, however, and Steve's blood turned to ice in his veins. As he looked on, literally frozen with fear, a grimy black skeletal hand reached up from the dark abyss of the monster's dripping throat, groping...grasping...reaching for _him_.

There was no time to move.

There wasn't even time to scream.

Powerful crocodilian jaws snapped down, taking him up in one bone-shattering bite...

" Are you alright? "

Steve opened an eye. He was sitting up in an awkward position on the floor of the passage, one arm held up defensively in front of his face while the fingers of the other dug into the ground so fiercely they were starting to turn white. He glanced quickly at his arms and was amazed to discover they were completely normal and unmarked with not so much as a trace of blood to commemorate the incidence. Vanished also were the demon-beasts. In their place stood a young man clad almost exclusively in combat gear with dark hair to frame a pale complexion. Aside from being almost as white as a sheet, this stranger looked, in every other respect, normal, and Steve felt his nerves calming.

" Phew, it's just you." The terrified Burnside managed once he'd regained his breath. Words could not express how glad he was to see another human being. His heart was easily keeping pace with the Seattle Slew, and the effects of the adrenalin coursing through his veins had yet to wear off. He gazed at the stranger in front of him through half-lidded eyes, fighting the urge to collapse where he sat. He'd been running for so long that his legs felt like cooked spaghetti and all his body really wanted was a chance to shut down and relax.

" Just me? " Rob--for that was who it was--was confused. " What do you mean _'just me'_? " His eyes flickered nervously from side to side, as if he expected the walls to open up any minute and unleash a legion of ghouls, " I don't think we've ever met, but you must be Steve..."

Steve blinked. " How do you know? "

Casually, Rob stepped over to where Steve was half-sitting, half-slumped on the ground and reached down to help him up. The kind gesture was refused, and Steve made a face at the too-pale hand before rising...with some difficulty...on his own.

Taken aback, Rob withdrew_. Okay. One of **those **types I see. Oh boy. _Nevertheless, he tried his hand at a friendly introduction. " First I think I'd better introduce myself. Name's Rob. I met up with your friends outside, and that's where I heard of you..."

" You know a way out? " Steve's eyes glistened with hope.

Rob frowned." Afraid not. I'm just as lost in here as you are."

" How'd you find me? " Steve's words were coated in suspicion. Though he desperately wanted to believe this guy, too many close-calls, betrayals, and life or death situations had tempered his trust with caution. He found himself increasingly distrustful of people these days, especially pale commandoes who showed up out of nowhere in a demonic cave.

" You were screaming like a lunatic." The shadow of concern crossed Rob's face, and now he frowned lightly, " Are you _sure_ you're okay? "

Steve made a face of surprise and looked down. He distinctly recalled tripping, only...there was there was nothing to trip over. Now that he wasn't busy running from hellhounds and catbeasts, he could see that the floor of the passage was in fact smooth and even with no rocks jutting up or old dead roots waiting to throw his balance. The only thing he could possibly have tripped over would have had to have been his own two feet. An unflattering thought, but what else could explain his fall?

And what of the nightmare creature that had been ready to chow down on him? Not that he was complaining--he counted opening his eyes to see _that _gone as truly one of the best things that had ever happened to him--but it was more than a little odd for hellbeasts to just up and vanish.

" You...you didn't see it? "

Rob shook his head, his concern growing. " See what? " _This kid's had one too many crack on the 'ol melon. Not that I blame him. Too much more time in this maze and_ **_I'll_** _be reduced to a babbling looney. Funny how Angelique glossed over that little part. And what about the 'Guardians' of the mountain? I've been up and down these stupid tunnels at least forty times and haven't seen **one**_.

Steve shivered despite the fact that it was very hot, " The _creature_. It was _huge_! " He spread his arms wide to emphasize, as if telling a scary story to small children, " As big as a horse! A _big _horse! And it was all covered in black fur and had two blazing fires for eyes, and then there was the teeth, and the throat, and...oh god, the skeleton hand..." Steve was talking so fast he was chattering like a chipmunk, and now Rob really had to strain to catch some of the words, " You didn't _see _that! "

" Nope." Rob admitted, shocked at the vivid hallucination his new companion had apparently underwent, " But the way you tell it makes it sound _horrible_."

" What about a headless cat? " Surely this guy _had_ to have _seen _something!

" You're kidding." Rob kept his voice smooth and level. The worst thing you could do was argue with a looney. Hard telling what they might decide to do.

Steve shook his head lively. " No! They were here! Both of them! They..." He looked around, past Rob, and to all sides. Not a trace of monster was visible. There weren't even any tracks in the hard sand floor. It wasn't as if these creatures had simply vanished in an instant, it was as if they'd never been there to start with. For some reason, that fact was almost scarier than the creatures themselves. _Are we dealing with **ghosts **now! God, what in the name of all things holy is **wrong** with this island!_

Steve surrendered a heavy sigh and lowered his head, wiping at the sweat on his forehead with the back of one hand. This was a lot to handle. But at least now he wasn't in it alone.

__

" You don't believe me, do you? " His words came out defeated and tired.

Rob hadn't the heart to argue with him. _The hallucinations were probably very real to him. I'd do best to just play along and take it from there._

" No, I believe you. What do you think happened to them? "

Steve slammed a sweaty palm against a glowing rune on the wall in frustration. " That's just the thing: _I don't know_. It's like they were never there, yet they seemed so _real_." He was yelling now, his words echoing off the walls of the tunnels, " It's just not right! How am I ever going to get out of here if I don't even know what's real and what's not? " he jabbed a hand in Rob's general direction, indicating the space behind him, and now Rob could see the true extent of his frustration. The man's eyes were worn and bloodshot, and his whole body was trembling. Sweat dripped in abundance from his forehead, bringing his bangs together in sticky clumps which hung in limp disorder about his face. Amazing he could stand. Everything about him suggested he was about ready to faint from exhaustion at any given moment.

It then occurred to the older man that Steve didn't know about the deal with Veronica, or the Hylen, or the mystical relic that had the power to shift the tide of the upcoming battle in their favor if only they could recover it.

" Listen, why don't we just...rest a minute, and I'll fill you in on what's happening." He dropped and sat cross-legged on the floor, a wordless invitation for Steve to do the same. They may as well recuperate while they talked; neither one of them was going to be of any use too weak to stand.

Snapping up the offer, Steve joined his friend in sitting Indian style on the sandy dry ground. Hot as the atmosphere may be this deep in the heart of a volcano, the sand was refreshingly cool. He picked up a few handfuls of it, loving the feel of the individual granules sifting through his fingers. Sure felt good to relax_. I've been on the go for the past...too long to remember._

" So, things have been...happening? "

" Yes." His commando-style companion agreed somberly, " You see, there's this evil sorceress by the name of Veronica..."

There, in one of the many winding passages beneath the base of an angry Mt. Fulcan, Rob proceeded to fill Steve in on all that had transpired.

-o-O-o-

" I feel like we've been wandering around for weeks."

" I'm hungry."

" Let's just forget about this."

" Do you think we'll run into Alan? "

" My hair looks _awful_."

These were the tired complaints endured by Mitch, the Zombie-Gang's leader, as the group trekked on through dense jungle and overwhelming greenery in hot pursuit of either Rob or Jill; whichever they happened to come across first. Nearly three hours had passed since Olivia's little dilemma, and still no sign of the S.T.A.R.S. member. They'd even wandered all along the riverbank where Olivia _swore_ Jill must surely be dying--what a waste of time that had been.

If Jill was on her deathbed Mitch dreaded to think what she must be capable of at full strength. Then again, there was always the chance she'd been snatched up by some other nasty, which was perfectly acceptable by his standards. One less problem to deal with. The quicker they found Rob and learned what the old fool was after the better.

Then Mark would be happy, Mitch would be happy, and the whole pack could just head on home with a cool two million to be paid in full shortly thereafter_. Wasn't exactly my idea to take a vacation on Helljika Island anyway._

Sure, the natives were tasty and the whole remoteness of the place guaranteed them invisibility from the civilized world for at least a little while, but there was too much competition for food now that those rancid T-carriers had moved in and the head count of weird animals that could kill them keep getting larger and larger. When all was said and done, this place was simply too dangerous to serve as a long-term base of operations._ And when your base of operations involves killing and eating people in order to survive, you can't be too careful about where you set up camp. Too many people disappearing in one area arouses suspicion. Too much suspicion leads to much unwanted company._

While there was no danger of that happening among a group of primitives--Mitch and team weren't as much worried about getting poked with spears and arrows as opposed to magnums or machine guns--that didn't change the fact the island itself was a kind of hotspot for mystical activity. It was just as dangerous to live here as near a police station in a small town. More so, in fact, because what could be considered as a Royal Zombie's natural enemies lived here.

Mitch's hand tightened around his assault rifle, his ever watchful eyes alert and on the lookout for danger. Stepping over a fallen log and the half-eaten carcass of a monkey, he pushed his way through a curtain of vines and continued in what he hoped was the right direction.

His overall mood was less than cheerful. Not only had he and his gang lost the trail, they seemed to be unable to find it again. He didn't know where they were going. He didn't know where all these strange, powerful creatures kept popping up from. As an added twist, there were still a few questions left unanswered; for instance, where had that blasted Rob gotten off to? More importantly, what if Jill had gotten back and told her team fantastic tales of intelligent zombies?

That would be a very bad scenario indeed. Mitch didn't like to think what would happen if they ended up with Alan on their tail. The rest of the S.T.A.R.S. would be hard enough to deal with thanks to their intense training and experience in life-threatening situations, but as far as he and the rest of the gang were concerned if you had Alan after you you might as well kiss it goodbye. Strong and skilled as Mitch was, he knew he was no match for a T-2 carrier.

" Eeuuuw! " Olivia whined suddenly, wrinkling her nose in disgust as she passed under a branch overhung with mucousy green slime, " Sick! Now I've got this stuff in my _hair! _"

The rest of the Zombie Gang didn't reply. Over the years they'd long since gotten used to their companion's constant whining and complaining over things that didn't add up to a bowl of brains. Seemed that air-headed ditz always had something to gripe about, no matter what the circumstances. Today it happened to be her hair.

Mitch resisted the urge to grab her by the throat and strangle her. He hadn't said much these last couple hours, but all this constant grousing was really rubbing him the wrong way.

Completely oblivious to her leader's frustration, the pink-haired, body-pierced fem fatale pinched a lock of limp, wet, pink hair between her fingers and held it up to eye-level, grimacing in disgust.

" Look at it. It won't even dry right."

" Maybe it would if you wouldn't dump ten gallons of styling gel into it every day! " David snapped, tested to his limit.

Olivia whirled and shot him a severe look, her glittering green eyes narrowing dangerously. " _My_ styling gel is _my _business. What does a reject like you know about fashion anyway? I'm amazed you have enough sense to comb your hair each day."

" Yeah? Well at least I don't go around attacking S.T.A.R.S. members, spilling our secrets, and then letting them _live! _"

" That," Olivia huffed, " was an _accident_. She got lucky. That's all."

" Heh, well I think we all know it isn't too hard to get lucky with _you_, Olivia."

" Hey! " Sonya piped up, rushing to her friend's defense, " Like none of us has ever made a mistake. Remember that man that got away from me last year even when I was dead set on ripping his brains out through his nose? "

" That was different," David was quick to point out, " he had a flamethrower. What did Jill have? Nothing but a knife! I could have killed her blindfolded while smoking a cigar with one arm tied behind my back! "

" Then why didn't you? " Olivia jibed.

David's eyes flashed anger. He grabbed a stick off a tree and broke it using only two fingers, " Because I wasn't _there_, you idiotic T-carrier! " He held both broken stick-ends up for her to see, as if there were swords that would help convey his anger. _My god, how does Mitch put up with it?_

" It takes one to know one." Came Olivia's snappy retort.

Nacho, who had been hanging silently at the rear, tried to win back the peace. " Look guys, I know we haven't had a very good day, but attacking each other isn't going to help things get better. There are T-carriers, giant snakes, Alan, and all kinds of weird beasts on this island. If we are to survive we must pull together; we have just entered an ecosystem where we are _not _the top predator anymore."

Mitch looked over his shoulder and gave a half-nod of approval, his pale frame and dark hair contrasting greatly with the lively green hues of the environment. " Well said, Nacho." He turned a disappointed glower on the rest of his little 'family'. " Don't you guys think we have enough to worry about already without fighting amongst ourselves? There's two million dollars--not to mention our own well-being--at stake here. We can't let petty little arguments drain our energy."

" Agreed." Olivia nodded energetically, reminding David of a spoiled little five year old girl agreeing with Daddy just to feel big in front of her siblings, " Mitch, you don't think my hair looks bad, do you? "

Quelling the urge to deck his fashion-conscious liability-of-a-teammate, Mitch took a second to study her hair.

_Lost cause. _That was the first thought that came to mind. Olivia's hair wasn't just wild and unruly, it was a total mess with gommy gobs of artificial pink sticking out awry at every odd angle from the remains of the now crumpled, soggy hair-spikes. This was a direct result of waterproof styling gel at it's worst. It looked like two ugly birds' nests atop her head complete with bits of leaf, twig, and dirt all rolled in. Beneath that mess, Olivia gazed out at him hopefully, her pallid features marred with a look of delayed disappointment. She looked terrible, and she knew it.

_So why does she want to **hear** it? _" Yes," Mitch agreed irritably before turning back and continuing through the vegetation, " It's a complete disaster. But you'll have to wait and worry about that later, being as how we're in the middle of nowhere and there are no beauty salons nearby."

Why did he have to deal with this? Why did his pack act like _such _babies sometimes? Especially David and Olivia. They were the worst. Constantly bickering...sometimes he found himself envying the T-carriers.

At least in _their _society there was no arguing. You just did your thing and hoped nobody came along and obliterated you. Then again, your average T-carrier had a life-expectancy of about six months.

The problem with the T-virus was that, while it reanimated the body, it failed to stop the corpse from decaying. Royal zombies, on the other hand, had no such worries. As long as they stayed out of harm's way and got plenty to eat, they could last virtually forever without aging or decomposing. In fact, Mitch reasoned, he and his gang had more in common with the traditional vampire than your standard zombie.

Like vampires, they were the walking dead--deceased, but impervious to age and decay. Like vampires, they enjoyed an added strength bonus over mere mortals. Both vampires and royal zombies preyed on the living for sustenance, but here they differed in the respect that royal zombies ate most of the carcass--or just a few select parts of their choice--whereas vampires had a more fluid diet consisting only of the victim's blood. Another difference between vampires and royal zombies were their weaknesses.

The traditional vampire was usually considered to be deathly allergic to the sun, crucifixes, and garlic. Holy water burned them, and the usual method of killing one was to drive a wooden stake through it's heart. The infamous Vlad the Impaler, a.k.a. Count Dracula, was the best example of such a creature.

Of course, many vampire myths either disagreed on a few aspects or downright contradicted each other altogether. It seemed every writer had his or her own unique take on the vampire lore, and over the years the stories had been garbled so much with people adding or subtracting this or that that there really was no limit to the different breeds of vampire present in literature today.

Case in point, Mitch remembered reading about one very old, very powerful vampire in particular who was immune to all of the aforementioned weaknesses; she'd even narrowly survived a staking. Now there...there was a special bloodsucker. Even the vampires in Underworld would have given her a wide berth.

Naturally, zombies of any type weren't bothered by garlic or holy water. The sun didn't hurt them, nor did they cringe when they saw a crucifix. Getting stabbed through the heart with a wooden stake would certainly be a painful experience, Mitch supposed, but not fatal. Surprisingly, his body healed very well for being dead. As far as he knew, the only way he or any of his kind could be killed would consist of either a high-powered bullet through the brain or extreme mutilation.

So yes, there were definitely a few differences between vampires and royal zombies. Perhaps the most notable, however, was that royal zombies were real whereas vampires lurked only within the dark realms of the imagination.

Or did they?

After all that had happened, the leader of the world's rarest group of zombies couldn't help but to wonder. Just because he'd seen no vampires didn't necessarily mean there weren't any. He'd never actually came face-to-face with a Tyrant monster, but he and the others knew through various documentation and horror stories that they did indeed exist. Maybe the vampires were simply better at staying hidden. It wasn't too much of a leap, considering he knew firsthand that other previously-thought purely fictitious beings existed.

Like sorceresses.

Oh yes, sorceresses were real. Contraire to what certain scientists believed, the entire royal zombie line originated from black magic, not science. Mitch could be credited with starting it all. To this day he could still remember clearly that fateful hike through the woods forty-four years ago, the night he died.

The year was 1960, and his life back then had been an utter mess. He'd just turned twenty, and his parents, in their infinite wisdom, had really been putting the pressure on him to move out. Problem was, Mitch didn't have a job or any semblance of a way to support himself. The trouble was that he didn't ultimately know what he wanted to _do _with his life, only that he would be miserable doing mundane run-of-the-mill jobs such as fast-food and checking.

To avoid bitter reality, and in an attempt to hide from adulthood and all the responsibilities that came with it, he had spent long hours away from home attending social occasions. Thinking about the future sucked. Partying it up with the few friends he had was much more appealing.

Thinking back on it now, he realized, what he'd been trying to do was remain a perpetual teenager because the thought of being fully independent and having to support himself scared him. In order to be on his own, he'd have to hold a job, and with his level of experience and qualifications the only ones open were all the monotonous ones he'd had nightmares about.

Would good would it do him to have his own place if he had to work his butt off day and night close to forty hours a week at a job he couldn't stand just to be able to afford, what, a tiny apartment? Not that he'd be home much to enjoy it. No--all his hours would be spent at work just so he could afford things like electricity, water, food...the bills were endless.

What kind of a life was that? All work and no play. It seemed a fate worse than death. Unfortunately for the young Mitch, his father had been developing and alcoholic problem over the years, and it was a condition that just kept getting worse and worse. One night around nine the lady of the house had decided to go out shopping to avoid the chaotic day-time crowds, leaving her son and husband behind. All should have been well, except that this night Mitch's dad had been particularly intoxicated. By and by, he happened upon his son reading comics quietly out in the living room; a six-pack of Mountain Dew laying on one end of the couch, and a half-eaten candy bar on the other.

Drunks never use common sense, and intoxication can have all kinds of negative effects on people.

In Mitch's dad's case, it caused him to verbally manifest all his fears and disappointments about his deadbeat son. He called him a failure, a good for nothing lazy bum, and a parasite. In a drunken rage, he kicked his twenty year old offspring out into the street, telling him never to come back.

Severely depressed, and not knowing what else to do, Mitch had ran off deep into the nearby woods where he contemplated suicide. There he spent hours near a raging white-water river, weighing the pros and cons of just casting himself into the merciless current.

That piece of history still lived on in his memory; the darkness of the nighttime woods, the call of the wolves, the way the crisp autumn leaves and twigs crackled and crunched beneath his feet--even the way the moon cast her silvery glow on the white edges of the rapids; giving them a gleaming, mystical appearance. The perfect setting for something truly magical to occur.

Fate did not disappoint. It was only an hour or so shy of dawn when Mitch decided that life was probably worth an attempt at trying to live, and the best course of action would be to go back home and talk to his father now that he was sober. Even more, his mother would be home now and she would certainly be on his side.

This joyous concept brought in a flood of maybes. Maybe things weren't as bad as they seemed. Maybe the tide was turning. Maybe he could sit down with his loved ones and work something out.

It never happened.

Mitch couldn't have started more than five paces back towards home when a haunting female voice rang out from behind him, causing him to freeze in his tracks. Thinking at first that one of the girls he knew had heard of the fight and set out to find him, he turned and faced the voice's owner, a million words racing to his lips. What he saw rendered him effectively speechless.

An insanely beautiful woman with long, raven-black hair, glowing green eyes, and a complexion as pale as the flowing white gown she was wearing emerged from the bush to his side, taking him completely by surprise. This woman, it seemed, knew everything about everything. She went on to tell him that she'd been watching him along the riverbank for quite some time, that she knew of his troubles, and that she could fix them.

Under normal circumstances Mitch's wit would have been sharper. He may have asked her how she knew such things--he hadn't said a word openly along the riverbank, choosing instead to keep his thoughts internalized and private. He may have asked why she cared so much about someone she'd just barely met, or how she planned on fixing his problems. But these were not normal circumstances, and the woman standing there before him was anything but ordinary.

Her eyes had burned with such a supernatural green light that they easily stood out in the dark, mesmerizing their target even as he admired them. This overpowering hypnotic effect overrode Mitch's common sense and impaired his ability to think logically. Completely in her thrall, the only thing his drugged mind was able to make sense of was that this woman before him was clearly an angel and he had no desire to argue with her.

" _You've contemplated suicide_." The effervescent angel stated, her soft voice a melodic tune riding the night breeze.

" _Yes_." For Mitch, lying was unthinkable.

The fair-skinned angel tilted her head slightly to one side, and now a hint of playful curiosity gleaned in those enchanting emerald eyes. " _Tell me,_" she walked right up to her spellbound companion until she was standing so near he could feel the gentle warmth of her breath on his cheek when she next spoke, " _Why didn't you kill yourself tonight? _"

The dark-haired young man blinked like a deer caught in the headlights of a car. There was definitely more to this fair lady than just a pretty face; those glowing green eyes were actually starting to burn into his retinas. At least, that was what it felt like.

To this day, Mitch could still see those eyes in his darkest dreams, still feel that powerful, penetrating stare that was forever etched into his mind.

" _I'm afraid to die." _Mitch's straightforward answer surprised even himself, " _And I think that perhaps I can fix things. Dad will be sober now. He'll listen_."

" _You don't know that." _The enchantress's smirk was full of darkness, " _What makes you think he'll even listen to what a worthless freeloader like you has to say? _"

" _I have to try." _Mitch's voice had came out sounding meek and small.

The mesmerizing witch made a soft tsk-tsking. " _Even if you did manage to convince him to let you stay, to what ends does this bring you? You'd never amount to anything. A dull, boring life would be all you had to look forward to every day until you died and the earth and worms claimed your decaying body. What a morbid existence. Is that what you want? _"

" _I have no choice. Everything dies."_

" _That's not true. There are ways to stay young and live forever. Ways to gain unbelievable power. I can make it so that you never age another day_." She leaned in close, whispered softly in his ear, " _I can make you a superbeing with the strength of ten strong men. Nobody would ever see you as a failure ever again. You could live the life you always wanted, Mitch. Go where you want. Do as you please_. _You'd like that, wouldn't you? _" 

Mitch nodded like a puppet. It sounded really good on paper, as the saying went, yet some small part of his brain that wasn't entirely under the woman's spell cautioned **_'there's got to be a catch.'_**. He blinked, trying to snap out of it.

" _What will you ask in return? _"

The raven-haired demon-angel laughed, stepping back and tossing her hair to one side as she did so. _" Oh, you are a clever boy! I like that. Such a nice change._" She smiled pleasantly, and her victim felt the effects of her spell begin to wane. He shook his head lightly, as if awaking from a deep sleep.

The nameless deity waited patiently for him to collect himself. " _Are you interested in what I have to offer? _" She purred, the hint of a foreboding undercurrent seeping into those words.

Now that he didn't feel quite so dazed, Mitch considered.

The strength of ten men, eternal life, the ability to do whatever he pleased--these were some serious items set out on the table. It was very tempting to just blindly accept, but Mitch was no fool. Few things in life came free, and it stood to reason that there was a hefty price-tag involved. He could still feel the aftereffects of her spelling lingering, the effect that caused him to faithfully believe that everything she said was true.

" _Hm, let's see,_" Mitch remembered intoning, putting on a false charade of being in control, " _Strength of ten men, immortality, can do whatever I want. Do you promise?_ "

Unblinking, the white-gowned woman nodded. Even without using her sorcery, she was still bewitching to mortal eyes. _" I will make good on everything I have promised. All I ask in return is your life-force_."

The corner's of Mitch's mouth sagged. " _My...life-force? What would you want with that_? "

" I have my reasons." The witch replied in that same soft, velvety voice, _" Life-force is so much more potent when I can get it willingly. One way or another, you will die before sunrise, Mitch Fletcher. It is up to you whether or not you wish to stay dead._"

Mitch's eyes widened in horror. " _But you promised immortality! _"

The deceptive she-devil nodded. " _I did. But you don't necessarily have to be **alive** to be immortal. Put it this way: I'm going to have your life-force with or without your permission. If I have to take it without I'm just going to kill you and leave it like that. If I do have your permission, I'll still 'kill' you in the literal sense of the word, but I'll reanimate your body and endow you with superhuman strength and abilities. You'll still look like a normal person. Your friends and family won't be able to tell the difference. In essence, you'll be the living dead--a zombie. But a special kind that will never decay. Also, contraire to popular belief, you will still retain your wit and memories."_

Mitch was skeptical. " _Don't zombies eat raw human flesh? _"

" _Yes, and you must do it as well if you wish to maintain your sanity and regenerative abilities. Really it's not so bad. In time you will get used to it. You may even learn to enjoy it._"

" _That's it? No more hidden catches? _"

" _No more hidden catches._" The temptress agreed, " _But if, after you become a zombie, you are able to find others like you who would be willing to trade their life-force in exchange for the same abilities you have, I would be very happy. Happy enough to Grant you even more power._"

" _Sounds good to me_." Mitch agreed. If he was going to die anyway he might as well choose the path that didn't involve _staying _dead. The idea of eating raw human flesh was far from appealing, but maybe it wouldn't be so bad. After all, didn't zombies _crave _raw flesh? And he already had the perfect candidates in mind for joining him in his new afterlife: a few people he regularly hung with around the neighborhood would probably go for the gig, especially if they saw that he had became super-powerful.

" _You are willing then? _" The wicked angel sounded positively elated.

Mitch had nodded strongly, pretending that he wasn't even in the least afraid of dying. " _Let's get on with it. Um, it won't hurt, will it? _"

The woman's mouth spread in a broad, toothy grin. " _Not much."_

Forty-four years later, and Mitch still considered that to be the best decision he'd ever made. Sure, the sorceress had lied--the dying part had not been anywhere near painless--but at least he had something to show for the sacrifice: ultimate power and a thrilling lifestyle he never could have imagined.

Oh yes, once they seen what he could do, it hadn't taken much coaxing to get David, Sonya, Olivia, and Nacho to jump on the bandwagon and sacrifice their lives for this new form of existence. Such a shame about Celina though. Out of all the people he'd exposed his secret to, out of all the people he'd both liked and trusted enough to ask, she was the only one to refuse on the grounds that it was 'immoral', 'evil' and 'sickening'. Such a pity.

He'd had to kill her, of course. Couldn't risk her running her mouth off to the wrong people. The surprising thing was, he'd felt almost no remorse after the act. Perhaps a brief sense of guilt, but it had faded quickly. Killing had turned out to be much easier than he had thought. Those were the days.

_The days before Umbrella and their ridiculous T-virus came along and ruined everything. _Some people just weren't' worth the oxygen it took to sustain them. Some people liked to dabble in things they had no business messing in.

_So now here we are, tracking some dimwit loser for a mad scientist on a dangerous island for two million dollars. Perhaps Mark is right: what kind of zombies are we?_

Still, it was pretty hard to spit at that much money, especially since it would help so much with the pack's traveling plans...

A sickening moan from the bushes ahead pulled the lead royal zombie from his thoughts. An instant later and the rancid stench of the T-virus heavily perfumed the air, clearing up all doubt as to what lye ahead.

" I am really, really getting sick of these guys." Mitch moaned, narrowing his eyes defiantly at the tangle of ferns ahead and bringing up his rifle. The plants wiggled, and the whole gang instantly tensed up. Powerful as they may be, no self-respecting royal zombie cared to fight with a T-carrier. One bite, one _scratch_, and you were done for.

" Um...maybe we could go around the other way? " Sonya suggested helpfully, her unsteady voice betraying a note of fear, " I mean, why walk into a den of T-carriers? "

" Sonya's right," Nacho piped up, his attention firmly fixed on a cluster of giant ferns to his left that were acting just a bit too frisky, " I have a bad feeling about this." Unlike Sonya, there was no fear discernable in his actions; his voice was clam and collected. You could always trust Nacho to keep his cool in a crisis. Unlike...

" Ah! Zombieeeee! " There was no holding her back. In a blind panic, Olivia surged to the side with all the fire of a horse poked by a red-hot branding iron. Mitch didn't have the chance to so much as bat an eyelid before she _threw_ herself into him, screaming like a wild banshee as a diseased T-carrier dressed in tattered sailor's garb missed his mark and hit the ground face-first in the exact same place she'd been standing only moments ago. " It'sgonnagetmeit'sgonnagetmeit'sgonnagetme! "

Unfortunately, Mitch had been anything but prepared when the fear-struck ex gang member had suddenly decided to launch herself into him, and down he went--firing his gun off into space even as he struggled to pry his subordinate off his face.

" Olivia get off! " He hissed poisonously through gritted teeth, " I can't see! "

Only then did the pink-haired zombie realize that her hands were wrapped tightly around his face. _Heheh, oops._

" Oh, for crying out loud! " David groaned, bringing his boot down heavily on Sailor Zombie's rotted gourd. The head exploded on impact, coating the surrounding fauna in a truly disgusting spray of diseased gray brain matter. " Would you calm down for Pete's sake? It's just a stupid..." David stopped midsentence.

Sailor Zombie had friends, and lots of them.

Without even realizing it the whole royal zombie congregation had waltzed right into T-carrier Heartland. Attracted in part by Olivia's over exaggerated screams and all the commotion going on, a horrific tide of T-carriers surged forth from almost every direction, plowing through thick vegetation and hardy ferns as easily as if they were nothing more than paper maché props. As was to be expected with their breed, loud moaning accompanied excited bursts of energy as the perpetually hungry set their sights on what was to be today's main course. It hardly mattered that their intended entrées were no longer living--the creatures among them were so good at mimicking life that their charade easily fooled the dimwitted T-carriers.

Not a hard feat. Virtually no intelligence registered in those blank, staring eyes, and whenever they opened their mouths it was either to moan or bite. They weren't easy on the eyes, either. Several of the ghoulish faces were set in disturbing, permanent grins. The only thing worse than the sight of these walking maggot-motels was that godawful smell emanating from their fetid bodies, and Mitch's company found themselves instantly regretting their enhanced noses.

Instantly everything was in an uproar.

One greedy T-carrier with only one eye and a ratty mop of greasy, black hair that made Olivia's look stylish in comparison decided he just couldn't wait any longer. Eager or the first bite, the mentally-challenged T-virus victim somehow managed to summon up an extra dose of adrenalin and lunged for the nearest target: Nacho.

" Uuuuhhhnnn! "

Too bad for Mr. Impatient that his intended victim possessed not only sharp reflexes, but the power of a royal zombie to boot. All he got for his efforts was a hard blow to the face which took his lower mandible right off.

Nearby, another group had their sights set on a tasty-looking Sonya. They were in for a sour disappointment. Ducking her head low, the energetic redhead put her arm out in front of her, charged, and rammed two would-be assailants backwards, using their stocky bodies to bowl over several of their buddies in the process.

David sprang into action and executed a perfect roundhouse kick that took his attackers down before they had even the shadow of a chance of biting him.

It was a good thing Mitch didn't need to breathe, because, as tightly as Olivia was gripping his throat, he wouldn't have been able to anyway. His windpipe was effectively crushed.

Not for the first time since they'd been zombified, Mitch wondered what exactly had been running through his head the day he decided to make _her_ a royal zombie. Maybe eating that old drunkard on thirty-first avenue really _had _intoxicated his mind.

For all her power, for all her cockiness and self-importance, Olivia was so terrified of being infected with the T-virus that whenever she saw your run-of-the-mill zombie she would totally lose whatever good sense had managed to cling to the back of her thick skull and go on ultra-stupid mode, or at least behave that way.

The others tried to fight when cornered with a threat. Loaded as they may be with the deadly T-virus, T-zombies lacked even a fraction of the strength, agility, skill, and intelligence of their enhanced counterparts. Any royal zombie worth their salt could easily avoid an infection through power and speed alone.

Not Olivia.

For reasons not fully understood to the rest of her company, the wild gang-banger feme fatale's response to a T-carrier ambush was to whine, whimper, carry on, cling to the nearest person next to her, and basically do the royal zombie equivalent of curling up into the fetal position.

With a tiny bit of difficulty Mitch was able to regain his footing, but as long as he had Olivia clinging on him for dear life he couldn't very well pull off a decent shot, much less fight.

" They're coming! They're going to get us! " Olivia shrieked, practically throttling her leader.

" Make that _you_." Mitch replied with an angry growl. Swiftly, he brought one hand up and pried his comrade's super-strong fingers free of his throat while simultaneously dropping the rifle. Powerful fingers wrapped around the small of Olivia's wrist. Before the terrified she-zombie had time to grab him somewhere else, Mitch flung her forward with the force of a Major League baseball player swinging a bat.

" Heeeeeeey! " Despite her protests at being _flung_ towards the opposition, the less-than-perfect-figured Olivia took three T-carriers down under her weight, crushing them awkwardly into the mud even as she struggled to get back up before they had the chance to bite or scratch her. She turned angrily on Mitch. " Whad'arya trying to do, _kill _me! "

" The thought has crossed my mind." By now Mitch had recovered his rifle and cracked the butt of it across the face of an overly-eager zombie. Hard. The unlucky undead suffered major head trauma and a broken neck. A tubby gray-bearded zombie seized his chance to rush in and grab a bite of flesh. There was a metallic clang as his rotten teeth connected solidly with the metal barrel of Mitch's firearm.

The tide was turning.

Ten minutes into the battle and the royal zombies suffered not so much as a sliver while their enemies lay dead, broken, beaten, and bloody. Even Olivia was starting to feel a little more secure, barring the fact that her own beloved leader had used her in place of a weapon a while ago. Blow after blow, kick after kick, the royals were proving themselves superior to their virused cousins in every way.

Even though his gun was loaded, Mitch barely had to use any bullets. Why waste them when his foes crumbled so easily under his attacks? Being that most of the T-zombies were already well on their way to the compost heap in the first place, they had been at a serious disadvantage right from the start. _Weaklings. We royals are made of sterner stuff. _ Mitch was actually starting to feel pretty good about the outcome of what had at first had been an uncertain fight.

That is, until _it_ happened.

Unbeknownst to the zombie gang, all the anarchy stirred up by the fight had attracted the attention of bigger, stronger creatures. Indeed, everyone had been so preoccupied that they never noticed the way the ground itself began to tremble beneath them, or the way the birds and mammals swiftly and silently fled the vicinity.

" SNAP! Keeeraack! " A tree was snapped clean in half!

If nothing had worked before, _that _got the Zombie Gang's attention.

As one, they turned their eyes towards the canopy.

And gasped.

Amazing how a situation could turn from bad, to okay, to a million times worse in a matter of seconds. There, assembled in a sort of odd semi-circle among the trees, was the world's deadliest collection of behemoth monsters.

A gigantic troll with a revolting face and massive fists the size of SUVs stared down dispassionately at the puny zombies below. From the looks of it he was thinking about stomping them.

An enormous serpent with scales as black as tar reared it's ugly head to a height of no less than twenty feet straight into the air. If the science accounts about how to judge a snake's length from the height it could rear up were correct, this giant was at least one hundred feet long. Bloodred eyes burned fervently against black scales, and the creature opened it's mouth to reveal a set of twin pointy white fangs that were as long as a man was tall and glistening with saliva. Or was that venom?

At first glance, the third creature didn't look particularly harmful. The size of large horse, this beastie looked just like an overgrown grayish-blue kitten. It was downright cute in fact, with large, almond-shaped eyes, silky long whiskers, and a cute, innocent baby-face. It looked like it was ready to play a game of 'pounce on the string'. That is, until you happened to notice the ten supersized ice-colored claws--ten on each foot--crackling with blue electricity. There was nothing at all 'playful' or 'friendly' about those, nor the deathly intelligent stare of it's cold, predatory eyes.

The fourth and final giant in the ring was reptilian and looked something like a cross between a crocodile and velociraptor. Crimson red in color, it supported itself on two thin birdlike legs, and it's scaly feet bore the infamous 6 inch killing claw that had made the raptor dinosaurs real badasses of their day. Where this creature differed from a raptor was in it's incredible mass, shorter yet bulkier arms, a very thick, very dangerous looking whopper of a tail that had to account for at least a third of the creature's total body mass, and the exaggerated length of it's crocodile snout. Whereas most beasts possessed pearl-white chompers with which to rip flesh, this bad boy sported several sets of deep red knifelike teeth.

No question about it: these were creatures that could rip a zombie--even a royal one--to shreds without so much as an 'if you please.'

" Oh sh..." David started, panic set in full-throttle. The rest of his words were lost to the trumpeting bellow of the troll.

Then the world turned violent.

** **


	30. Death Of Innocence

**__**

Chapter 30

_Forbidden Woods, England, 1512 ( Renaissance )_

" I tell you, you're wasting your time with that one." A frustrated feminine voice grunted from just beyond the solid oak door, " I don't know why you don't just kill her and be done with it, for Zeus's sake. Waste of energy if you ask me."

_Waste of energy indeed! _Veronica struggled to remain absolutely motionless, to keep her breath steady and quiet. Though they had yet to mention names, the young sorcerer's apprentice knew beyond the shadow of a doubt that this boorish new lady could only be talking about her. _I'm the only woman in this castle. Well, second-to-only now that this loudmouthed harlot has arrived._

Four years had passed since that bloody summer day when barbarians had murdered her entire family. They didn't know it--or perhaps they did--but the lithe young housewife slash wiccan they had chased to the edge of the Forbidden Woods had not survived the night. Well, not in essence, anyway.

Veronica Stilling was dead.

The night they had murdered her family, the fiends had slain her as well. It had been nothing more than a shell that had encountered the wicked Lord in the woods that night; a hollowed-out, pale imitation of the real thing. Though her heart still beat and her lungs continued to draw breath, Veronica had been no more alive than her dead husband and children.

Lord Valerian had fixed that. Just as a phoenix dies and rises again from the ashes, so he had helped his vengeful new apprentice build a new life atop the charred cinders of the old. _" No sense on dwelling on what might have been,"_ Valerian had advised, _" The time has come for you to take action and shape your own life rather than letting the inequitable hand of fate do it for you." _In just a few days following her 'death', Veronica had been reborn.

Reborn, but born twisted.

On the surface it was still the same person. Still the same ditzy, often silly, mother and housewife that her husband and kids had cherished. Outwardly, she appeared not to have changed much at all. Four years and she still was unable to bake a cake that wasn't either too salty or in some way deficient. Speaking English continued to be a problem, and had since caused more awkward misunderstandings between her and English folk. Practicing magic was fun, and, thanks to Lord Valerian, no longer a taboo subject. Over the years her skills had increased substantially.

Yet something was different, something was new.

In spite of all these consistencies, this was not the same sweet little girl that had talked to the thrush years ago on the night her mother had died, nor the loving young mother who had begun each bedtime by wrapping Kit and his sisters up snuggly in warm blankets before laying next to them and telling fantastic fairy tales of beautiful princesses and brave knights. Ever since she had fallen in with Lord Valerian, things had changed.

Where once the wild animals had welcomed her arrival they now looked upon her with suspicion and distrust. Squirrels and chipmunks would scurry quickly up the trees at her approach. Foxes and fawns would stop their play and dart into hiding. Even the most loyal of her bird friends now refused to eat directly out of her hands, waiting instead for her to throw their feed onto the ground.

Veronica could not understand what had gotten into them. She tried repeatedly to win back their trust with gracious offerings of food and sweet song--all to no avail. Her once trusting animal friends had grown too wary. No amount of coaxing, it seemed, could win them back.

Perhaps they knew.

On the night of the killings, the seed of hatred had been sown into the remnants of Veronica's broken heart. Nourished by fear and Lord Valerian's encouragement, it had not taken long for this wicked seed to grow and spread like a stain throughout the wiccan's new existence. A wild new passion dominated her life, and that was the insatiable desire to someday murder the killers of her family--to wrong those who had wronged her. The lust for the kill seeped into her mind like poison; ran through her veins like an evil, black river.

If it took decades, she would have her revenge. The barbarians would not get away with what they had done. They were evil and they deserved to die the most painful, horrible death imaginable.

Lord Valerian agreed. From the day he had found her, the powerful lord had taken Veronica under his wing and into his home; which just happened to be a small stone fortress constructed right in the very center of the Forbidden Woods and obscured from even the eagle's awesome eye by the dense tops of the tallest trees. This was the ideal location for practicing black magic and the more arcane arts without having to worry about paranoid commonfolk putting you to death for 'witchcraft'.

Ok, what Veronica practiced technically _was _witchcraft, but it was for a noble cause, and that made it just. Like James had so often pointed out, people feared what they did not understand. And just what would the common person understand about losing his or her entire family? Over the span of twenty years, Veronica Wells-Stilling had endured more loss, more hardship and suffering, than most people did over a lifetime. If anyone deserved a break, it was her. If anyone had a good reason to turn to witchcraft, she did.

She was coming along quite nicely in it too.

Upon first arriving at the fortress, the freshly widowed wiccan had been able to perform only the most basic of magics, such as moving or levitating small objects, changing the color of her eyes, and generating a rain of colorful sparks from the tips of her fingers. While this was a good step ahead of most wiccans and far beyond anything her mother had been able to do, it was still small potatoes in comparison to a true witch or wizard.

Now Veronica could levitate and move bigger objects for longer periods of time. She could throw small charges of electricity and put on a stunning lightshow. Her enhanced intuition allowed her to accurately sense the emotions of others and even control the actions of the weaker-willed to a certain extent. Along with these bigger tricks came a nifty new ability: shapeshifting.

The smaller the animal, the easier it was to change into, and Lord Valerian had decided to teach her the trick one sunny day while she was out observing a field mouse timidly nibbling grass near an old log. There was no need for any physical contact with the mouse, he had told her, all she needed to do was form a mental picture of the animal in her head--focus on _becoming _the animal--and the magics would do the rest. Of course, shapeshifting to _any_ form required either a great deal of power, or a great deal of concentration if the magician in question found his or herself somewhat lacking in the former.

Sad to say, Veronica's concentration still needed a little work. Instead of changing into an exact duplicate of the rodent she had been watching, the soon-to-be-a-powerful-sorceress's first attempt at shapeshifting had ended in disaster when she wound up mutating herself into a hideous mouse-human hybrid half her normal size with malformed paws, long, twitchy whiskers, big ears, and black, pupil-less eyes. Needless to say, that had not been a pretty picture. Thankfully it was a problem that was easily remedied, and once Veronica was fully human again Lord Valerian had had her practice the lesson over and over bit by bit until she got it right.

After that, bigger creatures were on the lesson plan. The aspiring sorceress could presently turn herself into an animal as large as a cat, and often did so just for the sake of a different point of view. It was no easy feat, true, but like all acquired skills in life each time she did it it got easier.

Practice made perfect. 

The infamous dark lord was indeed as great as legends said, and through his strength and guidance Veronica was getting more and more powerful with each passing day.

If she had any regrets about this new lifestyle, it was that it was a rather lonely existence. Lord Valerian wasn't always the best of company, and he seldom allowed Veronica to leave the forest and socialize. Every now and then she would venture forth defiantly with the intent of visiting the village without his knowledge, but for some reason she always hesitated at the edge of the woods, never daring to take another step. Whether this was from fear of rousing her lord's wrath or the result of a special enchantment he had placed upon her she would never know, but the fact remained that she always turned back before her mentor came looking.

Life in the fortress was usually quiet and dull. Basically all she had to worry about were chores, running errands, cooking ( Lord Valerian seemed reluctant to touch most of it ), gathering special ingredients for potions and spells, and practicing magic lessons.

In the four years that they had lived there, the dark lord rarely had had company, and the few times he did it was usually a young woman he had captured and brought in against her will in order to sacrifice to some almighty god or whatever. Thus, when Veronica heard a woman's voice coming from within Lord Valerian's central chamber while on her way to clean up a mess she had made involving flour and cream in the kitchen, her first thought was that this was another unfortunate victim about to bite the dust. The woman hadn't sounded frightened, however, and Veronica's natural curiosity had kicked in and prompted her to listen in on the conversation from behind the door.

Now she was glad she had.

Of all things sacred, they were talking about _her!_

" Circe, please. Sit down. You should hear yourself rant. If I didn't know any better I'd think this young girl had struck a nerve with you." There was a pause as Lord Valerian stopped to sip something from a glass.

Though Circe didn't say anything, her heavy breathing and the way she kept pacing the hard stone floor like an angry bear made it all too obvious that she was not about to calm down any time this century.

Lord Valerian continued, " Veronica is a fine spellcaster and an apt pupil. You must admit that she is unusually talented for a wiccan. With my training, give it a century--two centuries at the most--before she has exceeded Astor's power." Another brief pause. Then a low, condescending chuckle rose up from the depths of his throat. " What's wrong, Circe? Are you afraid that Veronica may someday be more powerful than you? "

" Of course not! " Circe exploded, her voice so loud and forceful that it caused Veronica to jerk her head back in surprise, " No matter how much training she has, no matter how many eons you spend with her, that pitiful excuse for a witch will never, _ever_ be in my league! _I AM CIRCE THE ENCHANTRESS! _Pray that you don't cross me, Lord Valerian, or I will show you what a _true_ goddess can do! "

At this, Lord Valerian merely laughed. " Where are you going to find a true goddess at such a short moment's notice? "

" You would dare to mock _me! _" Circe's voice was a shrill, poisonous hiss.

" I hardly call it mocking." The dark lord replied in cool, casual tones. Truly Veronica thought, nothing ever daunted him, " Both you and I know that you are not a true goddess. Why indulge in silly fantasies? Now, if you don't mind, I really do have better things to be doing. "

Veronica chuckled silently to herself. _That's showing her!_

" You think me a waste of time! " Circe sounded furious.

" Not only a waste of time, but a waste of space. Things are not as they were hundreds of years ago. Troy has fallen, Odysseus is dead, and you're nothing but the forgotten shadow of an ancient culture. Most people don't even believe in you anymore. You seek to cling to a world that no longer exists. I pity you, Circe. Your place is with your kin: dead and buried in the past."

" And your place is rotting in the depths of Tartarus! " The enraged sorceress retaliated, " Wait and see, Valerian. Your time will come, and when it does I will see to it that Hades makes you fry! "

_Wow, those two mix like oil and water, _Veronica thought, leaning perhaps a bit too heavily into the door, _That Circe sounds vicious. I hope I never have to..._

Unfortunately for the young spellcaster, she had yet to master the finer points of eavesdropping: such as listening for danger and being ready to spring away at a moment's notice should the need arise. Thus when a less-than-cheerful Circe flung open the door with all the gentle tenderness of an ox, the solid wood object collided squarely with her face.

_Thunk!_

The surprised sorceress-in-training tumbled backwards with a squeal, eyes watering and hands clutching at her sore nose. Crazy red stars twirled like dervishes around her head as she squinted up through blurry eyes at the menacing new figure looming before her.

__

Uh-oh.

It was a woman. 

Worse, it was Circe.

The first thing that struck Veronica was the other magic-doer's size, followed swiftly by her age. Circe was not small. In fact, she outsized Veronica by at least sixty pounds and five inches. As for age, she appeared to be in somewhere her early thirties, not that that was anything to go by. Thick folds of dark fabric varying of blue and green hues hung loosely about a full-figured body. _Too_ loosely, in fact, and Veronica feared for a second that the mighty sorceress's roomy...dress...( if you could call it that ) would fall down all around her and make for an even _more _awkward confrontation. It was not an ill-placed fear--she couldn't _possibly_ be wearing much under there, could she?

Just as quickly, Veronica's gaze was diverted to Circe's skin, which was the same rosy color of a baby's cheeks and just as tender. Flaming auburn hair ran wild down blush red-wine cheeks to spill over bare shoulders. Shimmering emerald eyes pierced Veronica's, and the sorceress's cherry-red lips twisted down into a disgusted frown.

" It's rude to eavesdrop."

That was all the warning Veronica got.

Circe's hand shot out. Instantly a sizzling whip of electric blue lightening leapt from her outstretched palm, snaking through the air and covering the short distance between the two ladies in a flash. Veronica cried out as the violent current of energy struck her chest and from there spider-webbed across the rest of her body, stinging every nerve it touched. She opened her mouth again to cry out for her mentor/protector, but all the air was sucked from her lungs and she collapsed to the floor in a pathetic heap, almost paralyzed.

_That will teach her. _A sly grin crossed Circe's face. Veronica was a thorn in her side, and one she hoped very soon to pluck. A shame she couldn't kill her right here, right now_. How **dare **they presume this...this peon will someday out-power me? Absurd! This novice peasant couldn't magic her way out of a locked barn._

She felt her fingers twitch; realized she'd been clenching her jaw so hard it hurt. At her feet, the meaningless body of that accursed wiccan-girl twitched and spasmed with the excess energy of the blast. She wasn't dead. Not yet.

Such a pity.

A sudden rush of rage swelled within her being, and Circe lost control. Forgetting for the moment where she was, the wicked enchantress's hand glowed with magic as she fired up for her next shot...

" Circe, have you gone mad! " It was Circe's turn to be surprised. She dropped her hand quickly and was just in the process of spinning on her heel when a powerful blast caught her full in the back and sent her flying.

Behind her, the source of the blast, stood a very angry, very unamused Lord Valerian. He took one look at the dazed Veronica laying helplessly on the floor and scowled. Circe had always been rebellious, but this time she'd really overstepped her bounds.

" Veronica. Get up."

_Like that thought hadn't occurred to me. _Veronica's dazed mind struggled to come to grips, _Circe gives me the shock of my life, and he's all 'get up, Veronica'. The least he could do is sound concerned._

The dark lord never seemed to put any emotions other than indifference and firm ironclad control into his voice. While these cold, powerful tones were great for invoking fear into young women and would-be trespassers, they left something to be desired on the social front. Then again, it wasn't like Lord Valerian did much entertaining between ritual sacrifices.

Which was for the best, she supposed.

Circe's power-strike had hurt like a thousand bees stinging every square inch of her flesh, but now she could feel the effects starting to wane off. Awkwardly, she climbed to her feet and cowered behind her master. So she wasn't winning any awards for courage, but at least it was safer on _this_ side of the evil lord.

Lord Valerian followed her with his eyes and made a curt grunt of disgust. Cowardice was such an undesirable trait, especially in the woman he himself had seen fit to take under his wing.

" Hah, some _witch _you have there, Dark Lord." Circe sneered, taking a full two seconds to recover from her unexpected flight into the stone wall. Fierce green eyes locked upon cold blue ones, and she continued on in the same mocking tone, " Poor little Veronica. If she can't even stand up to one of my weakest attacks, how do you expect her to fare against..."

" Enough! " Lord Valerian barked, his black lips drawn back in a dangerous sneer " I am well aware of your concerns, _Circe_." he spat the name, " but need I remind you that your presence here is no longer acceptable? My patience wears thin."

Circe tilted her head playfully to one side, let Lord Valerian she how unshaken she was by his threats. It was, of course, the mother of all bluffs. In truth, she _was_ a little unnerved, but better to die than allow him that satisfaction. Trying on a smug look, she cast her fiery auburn hair leisurely to one side for show.

Lord Valerian glared daggers at her.

Circe finally threw up her hands in surrender. " Alright! Alright! You win this round, O mighty Warlock Of The Wood. But I would not be you for all the world. Stuck with a whiny excuse of a witch...oh, she's got magic, I'll give her that. Possibly ambition as well. But do not allow yourself to be deceived--that little girl's as evil as I am sincere. Poor innocent little lamb. Already well on the way to the slaughter. But who's holding the ax? "

With that, the enchantress simply disappeared in a puff of red smoke, leaving sorcerer and apprentice alone in the hall to ponder her words.

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/

As the days went by, Lord Valerian found himself dwelling more and more on Circe's visit, and the words of wisdom she had last imparted before disappearing off to parts unknown. Much as he hated to admit it, the vile sorceress had a point. For all her power, adaptability, and potential, for all her ambition and willingness to learn, the vengeful Veronica Stilling still managed to cling to that one golden spark of goodness that had not yet been driven from her soul.

That would not do. That would not do at all.

The road ahead was going to be a tough one; tough enough _without _taking chances in the areas that counted most. There was just no getting around it. In order to get where he wanted to be, Lord Valerian was going to have to kill and conquer an awfully lot of people and nations.

__

With Veronica.

Sure, she was acting okay now, but he just couldn't risk what was soon to be his most powerful ally having an attack of conscience during a battle. While her thirst for revenge on the barbarians was string and unwaivering, Veronica's innate hatred towards all living things was not. True, the past four years had done much to harden her heart, and Veronica had proven time and time again that she was no saint. She had even, at his request, killed a brace of songbirds and carved their tiny hearts from their chests as ingredients for a spell.

That was definitely a step in the right direction, but it just wasn't _enough_. Something would have to be done, and soon. He needed a cruel, evil Veronica for his plans. Even an indifferent one would do. Fence-sitters--the term he had coined for beings such as Veronica who were neither evil or benign--could fall either way and were too unpredictable. Veronica was as much use to him as a loose cannon as she was dead.

A problem?

Definitely.

But how to fix it?

The solution was disturbingly simple: put Veronica through a test, one in which she would either pass...or die.

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

The day for the all-important 'final exam' arrived early one morning. Under the guise of a harmless raven, Lord Valerian flew into a nearby village just as the first warm rays of a golden sun began to peek over the horizon. In this form he flitted about from tree to tree, from rooftop to rooftop, until he found what he was looking for.

Then, during a precious moment of confusion, he swooped down as silently as the shadow of death; seizing his prize and disappearing with it, leaving the villagers none the wiser.

Funny how some people were so easily distracted from the things that should matter most.

Now he sat cross-legged in the middle of the big red pentagram he and Veronica had drawn onto the stone floor using the pure blood of a virgin woman. The rich red hues had since dulled with time, which only served as a reminder that he would soon have to find another virgin to bleed. An enjoyable task, but one that could wait until later. Casually, he waited.

In all the fortress, this was perhaps the most important room. Medium in size and circular in shape, it wasn't much to look at from the homeowner's standpoint, but it's meaning was very important. Veronica knew this too, and while he waited patiently on the floor the wicked lord entertained himself by guessing at how long it would take his apprentice to respond to the message he had left at her bedside.

A dark smile crossed his pale face.

It would not be long.

From atop the black marble pedestal in the very center of the room, the contents of the small straw basket moved.

/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/

Veronica woke with a start, panting heavily. These nightmares were getting more and more vivid. Horrible images of terrifying hell beasts bathing in the blood of her slaughtered family while she lay wounded, helpless to do anything. Even though part of her knew she was dreaming, everything always became so muddled that before long she wasn't able to tell what was dream and what was reality. And _that_ was truly horrifying.

Why couldn't the past _stay_ in the past?

Kicking the blankets aside, it was then that Veronica discovered she'd been sweating. She wiped a hand to her forehead and it came away as wet as if she'd dipped it into a pond. _Wow. That's getting pretty intense. Maybe I should tell Valerian about these nightmares. He may laugh his away, but mine are going to kill me someday. Either that or drive me completely **insane**. And...why don't I ever have any feet? Strange stuff._

She shivered, despite the lack of cold.

Dreams--and nightmares--had meanings. Every self-respecting wiccan knew that. Since early childhood her mother had always encouraged her to share the details of her nightly--or not so nightly, as the cases often were--trips through Dreamland. Dreams and nightmares used a lot of symbolism and often had deeper, hidden meanings pertaining to oneself and the emotions and/or trials in life they happened to facing at the time.

A rushing tsunami, for instance, may mean that the dreamer was feeling overwhelmed by the stresses happening in their waking life. A dream about being repeatedly bitten by mice or other small creatures could mean that the person was feeling weighed down by little annoyances. Flying dreams were always very spiritual and usually brought with them a rare element of pleasure and wonder.

Repeated nightmares where the same horrible things happened over and over again, however, were a different kettle of fish, and there was certainly nothing mystical or wonderful about _them_. Her mother had indicated that nightmares were the embodiment of a person's fears manifesting in the forms of frightening images and sensations, but they could also symbolize unresolved issues and feelings.

Which, Veronica supposed, made sense, but how was she going to resolves the greatest tragedies of her life? Killing the barbarians when she got around to it would feel good and satisfy her thirst for revenge, but Veronica was no fool. Their deaths--no matter how brutal--were not going to bring James or the children back, no matter how badly she wanted that to be true.

No.

Her family was gone, and for all his great power even Lord Valerian was unable to change that. The universe was a cruel monster with a black sense of humor. Nothing was made to last forever. Even the brightest stars in the sky were destined to someday lose their luster and fade into a silent oblivion. Life was a powerful, passionate force, but in the end it always lost out to the cold darkness of death lurking forever like a thief in the shadows.

Life.

Death.

Fire.

Ice.

Good. 

Evil.

Seemed like for every force there was an equal and opposite force. Only in the case of life and death did one force so grossly out power the other. Much easier to die than to live. One needed to go no further than outside the door to see that in action.

Millions of organisms died each day from the most minute germs to the largest whales. Each time a mouse ate a seed, each time a hawk ate a mouse, she was catching a glimpse of the vicious cycle. Life was losing the war millions of battles at a time.

It was a morbid truth that Veronica forced herself to accept. All this striving to be the best she could be, for what? In the end did it really even matter?

Did _anything_ matter?

If all was destined to die someday, what was the point? What was the point in _caring_? You couldn't change the laws of the universe even when they so clearly needed it.

You could complain. You could cry. You could raise hell and carry on.

For all the good it would do.

In the end it always boiled down to the cold, hard facts: the universe was nothing but a cruel joke, and any gods that existed didn't care about great injustices, or much of anything, really. Time was just going to plow on ahead as it pleased, and to Hell with everyone else. They could drop dead and freeze over solid for all it cared.

Such a stupid way the universe worked. It was as if it had all been thought out by a drunkard in the spur of a moment.

Completely asinine.

The list of adjectives went on and on.

Her mind flowing with these thoughts, Veronica mustered the energy to climb out of bed and change into a fresh outfit. That was when a yellowed piece of parchment on which a short message was scrawled in Lord Valerian's spidery cursive caught her eye. It was sitting out on the top of her dresser, and, okay, it _looked _innocent, but it was hard telling with Valerian. The guy had about as much innocence as, well, a serial killer, and he'd never been known for his never-ending patience.

The events of yesterday sped through the now worried wiccan's mind in a rush. It probably wasn't anything important. She'd probably just forgotten to do a chore, or to gather a certain spell ingredient for the ceremony next weekend.

With a shaky hand, she snatched the note, held it to the open window, and quickly read it:

**_Dearest Veronica--_**

Meet me in the ceremonial room as soon as you read this. I have a surprise for you.

Lord V

Veronica felt a lump rise in her throat. Setting the note down with a speed equaled by a ninety year old woman, she swallowed and let out a nervous, dry laugh.

" Heheh, I wonder what this '_surprise' _is? " She asked her bed.

As usual, the piece of furniture offered no answer.

Veronica swallowed again and began pacing the length of her room nervously. It wasn't like the Prince of Darkness to leave notes. And his sense of humor was almost non-existent.

So what in the name of all the gods did he mean by _'I have a surprise for you'_? That just _screamed_ 'impending doom'.

Now her heart beat double-time.

Valerian had said he had a surprise...he hadn't said if she'd _like _the surprise.

" The ceremonial room...that's the room where he keeps all those sharp knives and..." Veronica winced, remembering the screams of the women he'd killed down there. He'd forced her to watch once. The terrified young maidens had been scared out of their minds. They had begged and pleaded with Valerian to spare them. When that had failed, and each girl had watched the other get cut open slowly with that terrible ceremonial dagger, the desperate survivors had turned to Veronica--their last hope. Not that it had done them any good.

_Meet me in the ceremonial room as soon as you read this. _The words flashed again through her mind. " I...I guess I had better not keep him waiting." Veronica drawled nervously, " I don't think he'd _kill_ me. Least, I hope...oh god, I'd better get _going! _"

/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/

Walking to the ceremonial room felt like walking to the gallows. The whole time all the fearful sorceress-in-training could do was run the past few days' events over and over again through her mind, searching for the one move that may have sealed her fate. She couldn't think of anything significant.

Alright, so she'd forgotten to water the Lord's favorite black lilies a couple...dozen times...but was he really going to kill her over it? That seemed like such an extreme measure.

Maybe she was just getting too worked up. So Lord Valerian had never left a note on her dresser. The one time he did wouldn't mean the end of the world, would it?

_No. Must be brave, must be strong. He'll be able to sense it if I'm not. He wouldn't like that. Then again, I wouldn't like to be killed, so who could blame me? _A new thought entered her mind, _Omigod, what am I going to do if he **does** try to kill me!_

Die.

That was what.

A bit loopy she may be, but Veronica was not fool enough to think even for one second that she would be a match for her master. Even if she tried to escape, she would never make it far. _Becalmbecalmbecalm..._

The door to the ceremonial room had never loomed so ominous. Gently, her hand found the latch, and she glided in as silently as a ghost.

" Lord Valerian? "

It came out as a squeak, for in that very instant Veronica knew that the room was set up for another ritual sacrifice. Throngs of black candles circled the room, their lively flames playing over the four sets of empty chains hanging from the cold walls. Incense burned from all the usual places. Lord Valerian had been sitting in the central pentagram before she'd arrived; now he rose and smiled a smile that just about turned Veronica's blood to ice.

" There you are." He lifted his chin and cocked an eyebrow, probably deciding where to make the first incision..." Something wrong, Dear? You seem a little...tense."

No matter how she tried, Veronica could not hide the fact that she was staring and shaking like a leaf. Don'tshakedon'tshakedon'tshake...must...speak...is that a knife? Her eyes fastened themselves to the folds of Lord Valerian's black cloak where a weapon may be hidden. 

" Nothing's...wrong." She laughed heartily for show, a laugh that, unbeknownst to her, caused Lord Valerian to wonder if maybe she'd tripped and hit her head too hard on the way over, " I can't wait to see your knife. I mean, surprise!" She added hastily, catching herself. _Boiled-up bat wings soaked in squirrel vomit, he knows I'm onto him! _There was just no word strong enough to accurately describe the overwhelming 'I'm doomed' sensation _that_ little gem of knowledge made her feel.

Lord Valerian blinked. Had she always been this dingy? He was about to say more when a high-pitched giggle from the center of the room drew both their attentions to the faded straw basket.

" What's that? " It was a good question, but Veronica didn't wait for the answer. Instinctively, she dashed to the source. There, laying snuggly in the tiny straw basket atop the infamous black pedestal, and wrapped warmly in a white wool blanket, was just about the cutest little baby she had ever seen.

" It's a baby! " Veronica instantly reached down and patted the fine, silken blonde hair with one hand while caressing the infant's rosy cheeks with another, " Oh, it's so cuuuuuuuuuute! " She whirled on her mentor excitedly, all traces of fear erased from her now joyous face. " Is this your surprise? This little baby! "

Lord Valerian's reply was a slow nod. He wasn't used to women getting so happy and excited in his presence. As a result, for the briefest of moments, his usually condescending, evil smirk was replaced with a clueless expression.

Veronica giggle like a maniac and lifted the child out of it's basket, rocking it gently in her arms. She then turned to her dark lord, eyes sparkling with excitement. " This is great! We can be parents! "

Lord Valerian's jaw dropped a good two inches. He stood for a moment, gaping like a fish. Then he slapped a palm to his forehead and sighed. This was going to be harder than he'd thought.

" Is it a boy or a girl? " Veronica chattered energetically.

" I do not know..." The evil lord ground out, his soft voice barely above a whisper. Though he had lived for over five hundred years--and only looked twenty on top of it--Lord Valerian had never liked children. Especially infants.

Now he was faced with the not-so-thrilling task of converting a fairy godmother to a wicked stepmother.

" Now how could you not know that? " Veronica scolded playfully, absently wagging a finger at the very man who had terrified her only moments ago as if he were a clueless new father.

" Forgive me for not checking." Valerian drawled, rolling his eyes.

He didn't need to check, however, as the happy new mother was already doing it for him.

" Hey! It's a girl! What shall we call her? "

" Look Veronica..."

But the sorceress wasn't paying attention. " How about Iris, or Emily, or Athena, or maybe Selene..."

" VERONICA! " Lord Valerian snapped, tossing a lightening bolt across her nose for emphasis, " We are not _naming _the child. We are not _keeping_ the child. Do you understand? "

Veronica's cheery expression vanished instantly. She jerked her head back as though she'd been slapped. " But...if we're not going to keep her, then..." her face paled at the dawning realization. Of course. She should have known. Valerian never took any outsiders in unless..." but you _can't_! She's just a baby! "

Sure enough, Valerian drew the dreaded ceremonial dagger from the dark folds of his cloak, confirming her worst fears. The formerly silver-edged tip of the weapon seemed to glow with a murderous red intensity. Veronica had never been so unhappy to see it. On impulse, she clutched the infant tightly to her chest, as if to shield it from harm. Of course, as far as shields went, against Valerian Veronica was the weak, rotted-through one that no knight would ever want to use, but no matter.

Valerian held the weapon out in front of him casually, playfully twisting the blade in different angles as if to admire the fine craftsmanship. He looked positively sinful. " Veronica, do you know how I attained the power I have today? Do you know what makes for greatness? "

" Which do you want me to answer first? " Veronica struggled to keep her tone calm and apathetic. In her arms, the baby giggled softly and stared up at it's new 'mother' through trusting blue eyes.

Valerian tilted his head to one side, pretending to be deep in thought. Choosing to ignore Veronica's question, he continued in that same matter-of-fact tone, " True magic is not easy to come by. It takes years and years of practice and dedication. You must _live _for it. You must _breathe_ it. You must _earn_ it. Ritual sacrifices are the reason black witches and sorcerers have great power and wiccans do not. Have you remembered nothing of what I taught you? Tell me the story of the beginning."

Veronica sighed heavily and set the child back in it's basket. She'd been through _this_ before. Without taking her eyes off the baby girl, she allowed her voice to take a rigid, indifferent tone, " In the beginning, before time ever was, Chaos ruled all. There was no rhyme and reason. Nothing had form, and nightmares abound through the abyss, free to roam as they pleased. Then, a blinding light penetrated the void, and the nightmares were forced to the edges of the universe as time began; helplessly confined to a dimension of their own. The light blazed it's way through the cosmos, giving birth to countless souls while turning night to day, cold to hot, antimatter to matter. From each place it paused a star was born, and from each star planets. With heat came life, and from life sprang hope. Order began to reshape the universe, but Chaos was not so easily daunted. Through life it found a way to corrupt the hearts and poison the minds of the souls which had replaced it's own nightmares. From the blood of the most tainted sprang the gods of old, and Chaos began to reclaim that which had been stolen from it. " Here Veronica paused, and Valerian nodded.

" Well done. But there's something you're forgetting."

Veronica tried to look at him, but found her eyes instead wandering the floor. " What? "

Lord Valerian shook his head and shot his young apprentice a disdainful look. How could she have forgotten? They'd been over it so many times. " From where does our power originate, Veronica? "

" Chaos." Veronica replied without missing a beat, " All magic is rooted in Chaos. You told me that long ago. That is why it is so unpredictable, and why it can defy the laws of order."

" Precisely." Lord Valerian gestured widely to the multitude of flickering candles stationed all throughout the room. In less time than it took to blink the flames flared to life--leaping higher and higher until they were three...four..._five_ times their normal height! The new raging fires changed from the usual reddish-orange-white to burn a deep, passionate purple. Now the entire room was cast in a deep, magical glow.

Veronica didn't like it. The Evil Lord's cruel smirk seemed even scarier in the dimmer light.

Having built upon his point, Valerian continued, " Order wants everything to have a rhyme and reason. Each in it's place. Boring. Monotonous. No surprises. Order is the dispassionate force that would have one be born as a specific creature and remain that way until death. A squirrel can never be a hawk. A rock can never be a squirrel. Time has to constant and unchangeable. Things like that." A flick of his wrist brought the flames back down to normal size and returned them to their proper color. " See what I just did? Order would never have allowed that. With Order, all changes have to serve a purpose, such as the way the caterpillar transforms into a butterfly and water evaporates from the sea. Do you understand? "

Veronica nodded lightly to show that she did. " Yes." Nothing new of course. She'd heard the spiel many times before. Her mentor was very vocal about his religion. In fact, it scared her just how _obsessed_ he was with it.

The Dark Lord nodded again, taking the flat of the sharp dagger lightly across the smooth surface of his pale skin. He liked the coldness of the metal against his flesh; reveled drawing crimson streaks of blood from the soft bodies of the sacrifices. He was an artist, and the dagger was his pen. Such a wonderful way the blood flowed over silver...

He wondered how Veronica would react to her first real murder. Would she feel excited and powerful, as he had? Or would Little Miss I-Feed-The-Finches have a more...difficult...time adjusting to this new way of life? It didn't matter. In time she would come to enjoy it as much as him. Maybe even more.

" My magic stems from the Gods of Entropy: the beings born of Chaos who see fit to bestow their enchantment upon those who would serve their needs. These beings are not easy to please, and just as the storm ravaging the seas, their ways are mysterious and unpredictable. One thing that remains fairly constant is their tie to Chaos, and their drive to obliterate the enemies of Chaos. And what, pray tell, _are_ the greatest enemies of Chaos? Oh, you should know this, Veronica. You should know this well."

Veronica felt her sprits sink. She knew where this was heading. " Order. Light. Serenity. Purity. Love. Innocence. Mercy. Justice."

" Very well done," Lord Valerian purred, a dark undercurrent seeping into his already cold, quiet voice, " As you know, Chaos grants power to those who help it extinguish these qualities wherever they may find them. Blood is life. This child..." he swept his hand into a gesture towards the baby wriggling anxiously in the basket, " is both innocent and pure. Therefore, there is no greater way to show your allegiance to the dark forces than to take it's life. Each time I kill the young maidens, I take care to do it properly and gain favor of the gods. They get the life and soul of my victims, and in exchange they grant me awesome powers; powers beyond any mortal's comprehension. Don't you understand? They crave blood, Veronica. Not puppies. Not sunshine. Not rainbows. _Blood_. Draining a victim in their honor upon their sacred mark is a sign of great respect, and the only sure way to get what you want. You do want to avenge your family, don't you? "

" More than anything." Veronica's voice was a stranger's. Never before had she sounded so cold and detached.

The cruel sorcerer ran the tip of his tongue over his black lips in a sadistic smirk. He had to admit he'd had his doubts at first, but now things were working out perfectly after all.

" You know what you must do." He walked over and handed the abominable dagger to his partner in crime, watched as she took it in her own steady hands and examined it.

Much as Veronica hated to admit it, it was a very fine piece of craftsmanship. The hilt was smooth and dark; said to have been carved from the bark of a black tree which had been used to hang hundreds of innocent lives, then anointed in their blood. Onto it's surface were etched dozens of tiny hypnotic symbols forever blazing a deep red, like embers from a fire. These were the chants and praises to the gods of chaos, war, darkness, and all things twisted and corrupt. The blade itself was about a foot long and pure silver. Even as such, it remained stained and tainted for all time with the blood of the innocent. The tip was always bloody, and no amount of scrubbing could ever wash it off.

It wasn't just a dagger. It was the vessel of all evil.

The first time she had seen it, it had filled her heart with a horrible dread; like being in the same room with a demonic being. How she had feared it!

Now she was here, holding it, and about to use it to commit the most unspeakable evil. Behind her, she could feel her lord's breath upon her neck; a ravenous snake thirsty for blood.

" Sacrifice the child." He prodded, " Stab it swiftly through the heart and twist the dagger until the light fades from it's eyes and the bassinet is crimson with blood. Then we will take it and bleed it onto the pentagram. I'll teach you the ancient chant to honor Chaos as we drizzle the body with our special brew and bind it's soul to darkness. Then, and _only_ then will you be ready to graduate to the next level in sorcery." Then, as if reading her thoughts, he added, " It's just one child, Veronica. Surely it's life is worth granting you the power to avenge your own children. Why should it be allowed to live when they were not? "

_Good question. _Veronica tightened her grip on the dagger's handle and poised it in an arc inches over the infant's heart. One fast strike, and it would all over.

One quick movement.

One life lost.

The baby moved about inside it's comfy nest, pudgy pink fists swinging this way and that. Her glossy blonde hair seemed almost to shine in spite of the unsteady candlelight. Liquid pools of cerulean gazed innocently into Veronica's. The baby was curious, and perhaps a bit hungry. There was no way she could possibly understand the implications of the dagger hovering steadily over her heart. So helpless...

Veronica's eyes blazed deep violet with such a fierce intensity that her pupils were all but lost to the glow. There was no getting out of this. Blood would be spilled tonight. _May I be forgiven for what I must do._

The blade came down.


	31. Evanescence Nirvana

****

_A.N: In case you're wondering, my title for this chapter has nothing to do with the bands Evanescence or Nirvana, though I like both pretty well. I simply thought it would be a wonderful description of the chapter, since "evanescence" means fading and "nirvana" means paradise._

Fading Paradise.

Sums the events of this chapter to a tee.

__

Oh, and FF Net is not playing nice, so where you see -:- know that I meant to use a hyphen.

Chapter 31

Alexia shut her eyes; tried to shut out the pain. Not that it would help anymore than it had the past hundred times she had tried, but what else could she do? The beast was cruel and untiring; his blows powerful and painful. Really, there was nothing she could do except just wait. Wait and suffer. Damn Veronica to Hell for her actions. Hope Alexandra was doing something to get her out of this.

Alexandra...such a good-natured little child. Doomed for failure if her personality could not be altered. Alexia had never harbored high hopes for her since discovering her true nature. How was she faring with Veronica? Would she be able to sway the insane sorceress's mind?

_Maybe. _Veronica was foolish and weak of mind. Alexandra was sweet and insanely benevolent. The sorceress had already shown a fondness for the child; in fact, she'd been much more generous to Alexandra than the rest of the family combined. Given this, there was a chance Alexandra would be able to persuade her to let her parents go. She was the one Veronica would listen to the most. _If not_...Alexia forced the thought from her mind. Alexandra _would _succeed. She was an Ashford.

****

Then again, so was Veronica.

Well, a little hope was better than none.

Now Nosferatu stopped to lift his ugly mug towards the ceiling and cut loose with a meaty bellow. Since this was not the actual monster and instead merely a farce imitation conjured up by Veronica based solely on the twins' memories of the creature, it was very doubtful that the being doing the dirty work was experiencing any real pain. This was not a T-Veronica carrier. This tornado of tentacles was compliements of magic; possibly the very same type of magic that had brought Alexia and her brother back from the dead.

_Back from the dead_...here Alexia's memories were shrouded in fog. _How did that happen, anyway? _ Try as she may, she could not make sense of the fragmented bits of information floating around in the dark caverns of her conscious and subconscious.

Likely it was Ash who had given Philip and his men the order to perform the rite. Much as she hated to face the facts, he would have been the only one besides Alexis who would've cared, and Alexis had not been in a position of power at the time. That would also explain how the men had known where to find them.

What it didn't explain, however, was just how Philip and his men had been able to bring two people back from the dead. It was unnerving. She had asked Ash about it upon occasion, to which he had only shrugged and replied that he did not know how Philip had done it, only that he claimed he _could _do it, and had offered to do so for a modest price. Having nothing to lose, Ash had all too eagerly agreed.

As for being dead, Alexia's memories were even more _limited_ in this area. She remembered the split-second flash of intense pain-:-that would have been Chris's linear launcher hitting it's mark-:-and then...nothing. Blackness. That had been followed swiftly by a drifting sensation, like floating forever in the darkest reaches of space with no perception of up, down, or any other earthly direction. If she'd experienced any thoughts during this event, she'd long since forgotten them. The next thing she remembered with any amount of lucidness after being killed was waking up with Alfred in the frozen ruins of the Antarctic base, where Philip and his men had been waiting for them with supplies. Once the men had been sure the Ashford duo were stocked up and ready to go, they had simply taken off-:-never to be heard from again.

_Peculiar._

Hours of being chained by her wrists and ankles to a bare stone wall whilst a monster of her own doing lashed the stuffing out of her-:-while an unpleasant experience-:-did give her time to think.

__

How were they able to bring us back? Where once she had dismissed the question as being unimportant, now it gave her something to focus on besides the pain, and for that she was grateful. The words from earlier blazed again through her mind:

_" Is that really him? " Alfred pressed, horrified._

Veronica's eyes lost their fire and returned to their usual violet. " Of course not. Even I cannot resurrect the dead."

That statement spoke volumes right there. Veronica may not be able to bring people back from the dead, but something out there _could_. That being the case, it was only logical to assume that the something that could was more powerful than Veronica. Alexia hated operating on guesswork and speculation, but sometimes that was the only way to operate. Besides, Veronica herself had pretty much confirmed the existence of an opponent known as Discord that she at least viewed as being formidable. Another ray of hope. If Discord was Veronica's enemy then she was Alexia's ally. If ever she got free, Alexia was going to be seeking her out.

_Whap!_

The once-proud Ashford mistress swallowed a cry and recoiled automatically as another tentacle viciously slashed a bloody path across her thigh, tearing through flesh and fabric alike.

At least Veronica had had the decency to make it so that clothing regenerated along with flesh. Being beaten at _all_ was bad enough, but being beaten naked would be most undignified. Especially in the eyes of her brother.

_Alfred. _Forcing herself to ignore the intense pain wracking her bruised and bloodied neck, Alexia turned to look upon her twin through a messy curtain of matted blonde hair sticky with blood.

There, only a few arm-spans to her left, was Alfred. It was like looking at a well-dressed rag doll suspended from cold iron chains. It had been ten minutes since the beast had obeyed it's internal clock and switched victims, so all his flesh and clothes had had plenty of time to mend and heal. Nevertheless, his limp, broken form was still awash in drying blood; a grim reminder that more pain was on it's way. With his head bowed and body statue-still, were it not for the occasional soft whimper or twitch of a finger, Alexia would have mistaken him for dead. Every now and then he'd mumble some incoherent gibberish, but his words were so faint they were swallowed by the much-less-quiet roars of Nosferatu.

Ashame, really. She'd tried for awhile to communicate with him via telepathy, then given up. Either Alfred couldn't hear her or else he was too weak to reply. At first she had been angry with him, but time...and Nosferatu...had dulled that anger considerably. Such emotions were always eclipsed by agonizing pain. Besides, it seemed like such a waste of energy to be mad at someone while you were being eviscerated alive.

Alfred swung his head lifelessly to one side, and a small, almost undetectable whimper escaped his lips. His eyes were shut tightly; his face drawn into a pathetic display of defeat.

_He is weak. _Alexia thought to herself, _He cringes under the blows like a dog under a whip. Still, I wonder what he is thinking? _Even with the aid of the T-Veronica virus, Alexia had never been able to read minds. At best she could sense emotions, but only if the person was nearby and the emotions were strong. Usually when she was around Alfred she'd feel a warm flood of love and devotion emanating from him. Sometimes happiness, but that was an emotion that had become less and less frequent over the years. She did not know why.

Now, without the effects of her virus, Alexia was forced to experience the world through normal human sensory, and that did not include the ability to read emotions as strongly as before. Even so, she did not need extra abilities to tell what her brother was feeling right now: crushed.

Alfred was crushed in every sense of the word. His mind, body, and spirit were all broken and subdued. Listless, he hung from his chains-:-a living corpse. Slow, shallow breaths escaped his mouth and nose in an almost steady rhythm. Much as both of them wished it, unconsciousness was out of the question here, and Alexia knew he was still aware.

She couldn't tell exactly what was racing through his mind, but whatever it was, it appeared to be disconcerting.

/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/

Alfred had lost all hope that it would ever end. Veronica and Alexandra would never return, and he and Alexia were doomed forever to Nosferatu's beatings. This really was Hell. Unable to die, unable to live. In all his years of barbaric torture, even he, master of the Rockfort infirmary and exectioner of hundreds, had never been able to come up with a method of torture this cruel.

**_Not that you would have winked at the chance. _**The Voice scolded from nowhere, reading his thoughts.

Alfred didn't bother this time with a reply. It was like arguing with Alexia, only minus the physical results. Also, ( and he hated himself for admitting this ), The Voice made a lot of sense-:-much more than he did on even his most sane days.

So strange. It claimed to be him, or an aspect of himself, yet it showed no signs of insanity and frequently spoke with a diction that put Alexia's to shame. Calm and commanding, it's voice carried an inner strength Alfred could only dream of. To argue with it was to argue with reason itself. It was a battle of wits and Alfred was unarmed against wisdom and common sense. Therefore, he'd taken to ignoring this nagging voice whenever he could-:-mentally drawing himself within his own little private corner of anguish. Not that it helped very much.

Alfred drew in a deep breath and nearly gagged on the foul air. Everything about this place stank of death and decay. Slowly, he turned a curious eye to Alexia. Surely she must be holding out better...

Or not.

Alexia's broken, bloody form hung limply to his right. Nosferatu was having a grand 'ol time beating the evil out of her. Never before had she looked so helpless, so fragile and weak.

**_Her cross is heavier than yours. _**The ever-helpful Voice observed, **_Still think a kind word would be ineffective?_**

_Alright. I hate to sound weak, but I'll try it. _It was one of the few things The Voice had said that Alfred actually agreed with. If he couldn't help her physically, perhaps he could at least reach out and lend his mental support.

((Alexia?)) He waited a moment. When there was no reply, he added, (( I love you. No matter what happens, I'll always love you. ))

Several seconds slipped by in silence. Alfred waited anxiously. For a moment, he feared that the regenerating magic had worn off and his sister was, in fact, dead.

She wasn't, however, and her sudden unexpected reply hurt by far worse than any wound Nosferatu could inflict, (( Fool, is this any time to be wasting your thoughts on such absurd notions as love! )) her words exploded in his head with the force of an atomic bomb, (( Love can't save either us! You're even crazier than I had previously imagined. If you _love_ me, then get your head out of the fantasy world and concentrate your efforts on saving us! ))

Ouch.

Alfred felt his heart spill onto the floor. (( Sorry. )) He retaliated, and for once it was his own words unaided by The Voice, (( I just thought you might like to know that someone cared about you. My apologies.))

Alexia was silent. She'd never admit it-:-even to herself-:-but the remark stung. She did take some comfort in knowing that Alfred cared about her. Why had she snapped at him like that? He hadn't been doing anything wrong. She'd been angry and frustrated and she'd lashed out at one of the very few people on earth who actually cared anything at all about her.

For just the faintest, briefest of instances, a strange alien emotion found it's way into her consciousness: guilt.

Alexia shrugged it away. This was Alfred. No matter how badly she may treat him, he'd always come back begging for more. That was the way of things.

**_Pitiful. _**The Voice never missed the opportunity to add it's own two-cents' worth, **_She's even more screwed up than you._**

_I don't understand_. Alfred sobbed, testing his bonds and finding them still unbreakable. The metal was now the same temperature as his skin, and that was ridiculously cold. Any normal person would have been dead by now. _Why does Alexia hate me?_

**_She doesn't hate you. _**The Voice answered, and for once Alfred was glad to hear what it had to say, **_She just has a problem showing any emotions other than hatred, fear, anger, and indifference. Hatred and fear are remarkably similar. If all the range of emotions a human being could possibly experience were arranged as notes on a flute, fear and hatred would be slightly different pitches of the same note._**

Alfred was thoroughly confused_. You're saying Alexia fears me? _The idea was absurd.

**_Not at all_**, The Voice went on, **_she just takes you for granted and uses you every chance she gets. She could never respect you enough to fear you._**

**_-Flash-_**

This trip back in time was different than the others. Rather than merge with the consciousness of his victim, rather than being forced into attunement with the person's sensory, Alfred's spirit was able to just kinda float freely above the head of the next target.

And that target was...Alexander Ashford.

__

What? I have to see things from this wanker's perspective now? You hate me that much? Just kill me and get it over with. Alfred was less than thrilled. He'd never held much respect for his failure of a father. The man was an insult to the Ashford name.

**_The impudence of an ignorant mind. _**The Voice scoffed from somewhere unseen and unfelt, **_Just watch and see. You may be surprised._**

Before Alfred could argue or come up with a snarky retort, some otherworldly force pushed him _down_-:-straight into his father's mind. Unlike previous episodes, this time Alfred remained aware of who he was and was not. However, he was now a prisoner trapped inside his father's head; capable of feeling his emotions and sensing his thoughts without his host being any the wiser of his presence.

Through Alexander's eyes he explored the grounds of one of the family's oldest estates; a dilapidated old castle which had been abandoned for over a hundred years. A young scientist, he was curious as to the Ashford family's origins and had been searching for secret passages which might lead to hidden rooms. His hopes had not been particularly high-:-a hundred years was plenty of time for thieves to come by and ransack the place-:-but the building's unusual location near the coast of the Antarctic Ocean in one of the coldest places in the world ensured that it would not get many visitors. While searching down in the basement he'd accidentally bumped against a wall sconce, and a stone-covering slid away to reveal a secret door disguised to look just like the wall. Following the stairs down even deeper into the earth, he'd come upon a small room filled with shelves containing the most bizarre paraphernalia: among which were assorted witchcraft items such as spellbooks, herbal remedies, potions, bones, Indian fabrics, rare precious gems, ancient scrolls, and a 'dragon's' claw. Most remarkable of all, however, was a small glass vial containing a sample of blood labeled _Veronica Ashford_.

The scene shifted to the inside of a top-secret lab. No time was lost in getting that sample of blood under a microscope. What he saw contradicted everything he knew about DNA and changed his life forever.

Despite the fact that it was well over a hundred years old, and despite the fact that ice-crystals forming inside of the blood cells should have destroyed them, Veronica's cells were very much alive. More, they were dividing at an insanely rapid pace, with 'dying' blood cells constantly being absorbed by the living and reincarnated as parts of new cells.

Totally enthralled, the young man kept his earth-shattering findings to himself. No one else could know about this-:-especially not his father, Edward. The hearts of men were greedy. All they had to do was get wind of Alexander's miracle, and they would come like vultures and steal the sample away; use it to further their own names.

The next three years were spent studying Veronica's miracle blood. Thankfully Veronica had procreated, and Alexander was delighted to discover that all legit Ashfords descended from her carried traces of their ancestor's special DNA, himself included. When examined under a microscope, his own blood shared many of the same features as Veronica's, only on a much, _much _more minute level. Interbreeding with more normal individuals had clearly diluted the stock.

While this was immensely interesting, it didn't explain where the cells got their mysterious life-force or why they never died off or decreased in number. One small breakthrough was made when glycoproteins were discovered in the nuclei of the cells. These proteins, most commonly found in species of polar fish, acted as antifreeze and prevented the formation of ice crystals in blood cells.

The DNA proved to be an enigma onto itself. The fact that the cells weren't behaving at all the way they were supposed to hinted to the possibility of extra DNA helixes.

But how many? Why? Where had they come from, and how was such a thing possible? And, perhaps most importantly of all: what would a creature containing a whole body-full of this wondrous blood be capable of?

Seeking the answers to these questions became the ultimate goal. There was no other meaning to life, no other care. All there was was the obsession. Every waking moment of his life was dedicated to the legendary Veronica; to learning everything he could about her and unraveling the bizarre mysteries of her blood. He had every book and portrait of hers brought to him. Every knickknack and item she had owned, or was rumored to have owned. Any shred of evidence could provide invaluable clues. He combed the old journals and documents of the past Ashfords and their servants, searching for answers.

There had been little to go on. The elusive Veronica evaded detailed mention with ease, and even those who had lived with her described her as a mysterious entity. Among the things that _were _mentioned, descriptions of her intelligence, flawless beauty, and extreme intuitive abilities graced many a page in the diaries and journals of her family and associates. She was, it seemed, perfect; or as close to being perfect as one could ever hope to get.

But Veronica remained a puzzle, and there were still so many pieces missing. Although numerous diaries had been found, the diaries of Veronica's husband and Veronica herself escaped detection. Very little writing could be attributed to Veronica's hand. It was fact that she had founded the Ashford family, but where she came from and how she had come by such wealth was a mystery. There was speculation, of course, but none of the wild tales seemed credible.

For as much information as there was about her life, there was even less about Veronica's death. The only clue to be found was in the writings of a servant named Idabell Radcliff who stated that Veronica died on the night of August 15, 1832, in her manor located along the western French coast just south of the city of Brest. Despite the fact that the Ashford Mistress couldn't have been over 30 years old at the time, no further information about the death was available other than the fact that it had been sudden and unexpected. Nobody knew for sure the fate of the body, but rumors persisted that Veronica's husband had been so devastated by this sudden loss that he had had it frozen and preserved in an icy tomb beneath a sheet of ice in a secret location somewhere off the frigid coast of Antarctica...

**A blink of time's eye and 3 more years had passed.**

Now Alfred experienced Alexander's frustrations and dismay at being no closer to solving the Veronica riddle than he had years ago. The sample of blood defied science and refused to yield it's secrets. More, the competition in the field of viral research was heating up, and his father often required his assistance in secret projects.

Whenever he could, he whiled away the hours confined in a top-secret Umbrella lab examining slides of the crimson elixir under a powerful microscope. In spite of his best efforts, he was unable to keep his doings completely secret and entered the lab one morning to find his father poking around, coming dangerously close to stumbling upon life's work.

A distrustful character, Edward had suspected his son of stealing a sample of the T-virus virus and tinkering with it privately behind everyone's backs. Alexander had been quick to deny this and had tried to lure him away, but Edward's unwavering curiosity led him to peer down the microscope and discover Veronica's incredible blood.

How amazed he had been! 

Rather than scold his son for keeping secrets, the old man had congratulated him for his scientific breakthrough and demanded to know everything there was to know about the blood and it's origins. He also requested half the sample for himself.

This whipped Alexander's mind into a maelstrom of worries; he knew his father was a bad man with an evil purpose. The only ambition Edward served was his own twisted desire to create a virus capable of yielding the most deadly, powerful monsters in the world for biological warfare. He and Spencer had already created a devastating virus responsible for the creation of several grotesque monsters. With Veronica's blood at their fingertips, who knew what the limits were? Even the best of Umbrella's scientists could not hope to understand the nature of the powerful weapon they would be playing with.

Fearful of what they might do with even a drop of the magical elixir, Alexander refused his father's request.

But Edward had been determined to have the blood at all costs.

In a fit of anger, he pulled a gun on his own son, and Alexander had had no choice but to defend himself. In the ensuing struggle for possession of the firearm, Edward got knocked face-first into a portable table filled with no less than a dozen flasks full of dangerous chemicals, including nitro and glycerin. The resulting fireball explosion left him dead and his son wounded.

The truth never surfaced. The official story was that an accident had occurred in the labs. The Veronica sample survived the explosion intact and Alexander continued his studies on it, and began working on isolating the intelligence gene.

**A sneeze, and months had gone by.**

Now Alfred entered his father's mind a year before the birth of Alexia and him. Life was not being kind to the only surviving Ashford. Failure followed failure and Alexander struggled to keep the Ashford name near the top of the business.

During this time he decided he needed an heir.

All he had ever wanted was to revive Veronica. However, her body could be found and that dream was finally laid to rest. Opting for the next best thing, he decided to create Veronica's child.

Gathering the preserved egg from a female of his choice, he carefully isolated the intelligence gene and tampered with it until the results were to his liking. Then, _very _carefully, he injected the little egg full of genes taken directly from Veronica's blood. Once that had been accomplished, he fertilized the egg with his own gametes in order to further increase the volume of Veronica DNA and swiftly implanted his creation into a surrogate mother.

**Nine months later...**

Alexander stood by his wife's hospital bed as she went into labor. His excitement was dampened by the difficult birth. Though he hadn't known it at the time he had chosen her, Katrina had never been the shining example of a healthy young woman. Certainly not healthy enough to safely deliver the twins discovered in her womb months prior. She died in the middle of giving birth to her daughter, and the doctor had to rip her open to save the boy.

Alexander had been surprised when he had first learned that his wife was going to have a double-birth, and from this could only conclude that the egg had already begun to split into two prior to fertilization. He held both infants in his hands even before they had been cleaned up, affectionately dubbing the girl Alexia and the boy Alfred. Noble names for noble children...

_So **that's** what really happened. _Alfred had reached a new level of amazement. Ever since discovering the dark truth about their births, he and his sister had always been certain that their father had murdered their mother once she had expired in usefulness. Clearly that was not the case. Alexander had not really loved Katrina-:-Alfred could feel his father's emotions as if they were his own-:-but there had been an attachment and her death brought sorrow.

Another truth that he and Alexia had been ignorant of was the real reason behind their father's failures. Contrary to what he and his sister had believed, the fall of the Ashford name was not on account of Alexander's ineptness. The fact of the matter was that Edward had tied the family so strongly to the prosperous Umbrella Inc. that it's fate was intertwined with the company's. Alexander had been plenty competent; he just hadn't been working on the right projects. Keeping his real project a secret from everyone else caused him to be viewed as a failure, but in truth what he had been working on had been far more spectacular than any virus Umbrella could conjure up if they had a hundred years to get it right.

_He wasn't such a failure after all. _Alfred's voice was quiet and meek even in his own head. He couldn't believe it. Everything he'd thought-:-everything he'd _known_-:-had been wrong.

**_No, he wasn't_**. The Voice agreed, coming from everywhere and nowhere at once, **_Alexander was not a righteous man by any criteria, but he was not evil. Compared to you and your sister, he was a saint._**

_Alexia was wrong. _The truth was shocking.

**_Alexia has been wrong about a lot of things, _**The Voice replied softly, **_you've just refused to see it. Having an IQ of over two hundred does not make one an expert on all matters physical, mental, and spiritual. Even the greatest intellectuals in history have been wrong about things. Nobody in this world is ever right all of the time. A lot of people aren't even right _**most** of the time.**

But how can...

**__**

-Flash-

Alfred was cut off midsentence as time once again whipped into overdrive and the years flew by. This time he was not lucky enough to take a back seat in the action-:-as time flew forward, his soul merged with his dad's and Alfred became Alexander; just as he had became all his other victims in times past.

_He was in a basement. Dark shadows drifted hauntingly across barren walls. The gray stone floor was hard under his back. There was a musty smell in the dank air; like old books left to rot for many years. The lighting was very dim. He could not feel his hands or feet, nor any other part of his body. Now and again he would find the strength to twitch a finger, but that was it. His eyes were staring up at the ceiling, and he could not change his head's direction._

How long he had been like this, he did not know. So many things he could not remember, so many questions to be asked. Something he was supposed to know...

They'd been hiding her. They hadn't wanted him to find out.

Hiding...hiding who?

His mind was a graveyard of fragmented memories.

He tried to move, but his body was dead under his command. There was no escaping whatever held him prisoner. Only a miracle could free him now. But did he have any reason to hope for miracles? Any gods that existed surely could not forgive the crimes he had committed, the atrocities he had allowed to take place.

Footsteps approached from off in the dark. There was nothing to do but wait. Wait for the wolf to approach and pray that it was not hungry.

The creature's head and torso finally came into view, and Alfred found himself staring straight into the frosty eyes of...himself. **Impossible! That's me! I was fifteen. I remember this!**

Chaos reigned supreme.

The moment was incredibly brief.

Present Alfred quickly slipped back into the mind of Alexander, and again two souls were as one.

Young Alfred was clearly having the time of his life. An evil grin slithered wickedly across his pale features. " You're awake. That's great." His voice was calm, but there was no hiding the murderous undercurrent lurking just below the surface.

Alexander/Present Alfred's eyes moistened with tears as recognition dawned and the memories came rushing back. Suddenly he could remember it all: the secret room, his children cradling their newborn daughter, the sharp sting as his daughter pricked his arm with a needle filled with fluid...

That was it! The needle! Alexia must have shot him up with some kind of a paralyzing solution. That was why he'd blacked out. That was why he was helpless to move.

It was too wretched to be true.

They'd turned on him! All their lives he'd done nothing but be a good father. His children got whatever their hearts desired. The best education in the land was made available to them. He'd moved mountains just so they could have their way, and how did they repay these kindnesses? By lying, scheming, and inbreeding behind his back!

Now he'd gotten them angry, and the danger was very real.

Alexander's lip quivered. He was afraid of death, and even more afraid of his own children.

" Why are you doing this to me?" His voice came out in a weak, pathetic tremble.

Young Alfred sneered, his face scrunching up into a hateful mask of disgust. " Because! " he hissed, " You were going to take her away from us! You stupid old fool."

Alexander blinked like an owl. He felt his fear turn into anger. " She's inbred! You..."

" **She** is **my** daughter! " Young Alfred shrieked, voice trembling with rage. He balled a fist and smashed it into Alexander's face before proceeding to kick him repeatedly in the side. Alexander cried out in pain. " You messed it all up!"

" Alfred! Calm down. He's useless to us beaten." Alexia's authoritative voice called from somewhere just out of sight.

" He's useless to us **anyway**!" Young Alfred spat, eyes burning down dangerously on the limp figure before him.

Alexander/Present Alfred was mortified. It wasn't supposed to be like this. He wasn't supposed to be murdered by his own children, his own flesh and blood! Fear set in full-throttle, and now he began plead.

" I wasn't going to harm her, I swear!" It was true.

" Yes you were." Young Alfred growled, not buying, " You don't care about anyone. You don't care about **us**. We were nothing but an experiment to you, weren't we? Isolate the intelligence gene."

Alexander's face paled in horror. How did they know? He'd worked so hard to keep his research secret. " No! No you don't know everything! It was so much more than that...I love you! "

" Your mockery is an insult to my intelligence." Young Alfred snorted, " You don't even know what that word means! Alexia and I were just a failed experiment to bring Veronica back. Come on now, **Father**," the word was spat, " like you always said, telling the truth is good for the soul."

" No...you and Alexia weren't just..."

" Stop lying! " Young Alfred's foot shot out again, sending another bolt of pain through Alexander's ribs. " It was your blunders that killed Grandfather! You can't do anything right, can you? You're nothing but a failure."

**Failure! **The word stung. They didn't know. They couldn't possibly know. If only he'd said something sooner...a million replies came to mind. Sadly, they all but vanished the second he fished for one to use.

On impulse he shouted " At least I don't shag my own sister! "

For a split second, Young Alfred froze, taken aback. Then his face relaxed into a carefree smile. " Oh, am I supposed to be offended? " He snickered in that girly, high-pitched way of his, " For your information, Alexia is very..."

" Finish that sentence and I shall use **you** instead of him! " Alexia's voice was a shrill hiss.

That shut Young Alfred up. Alexander watched as his son's eyes shifted resentfully from him off to something he couldn't see in Alexia's general direction.

" There. It's ready." Alexia said of something Alexander could see. There was a rattle of glass and metal and a general shuffle as objects were moved on a table. Then footsteps.

Never before had Alexander/Present Alfred felt so alone, so utterly betrayed and helpless. She was going to do it. She was going to kill him.

Of course, it **had** to be her. It wouldn't have been right any other way. The curse of Veronica's blood was to be his undoing. A cruel irony, a savage twist of fate. It was all sinking in.

His heart sped up as his daughter's uncaring visage came into view. A needle filled with some nasty-looking violet-red liquid was grasped firmly in her right hand.

" Should have isolated the loyalty gene, Father." She purred, taking the uncapped tip of the needle across his wrist in a playful manner, " You will be a great test subject for my new virus."

Alexander's heart froze mid-beat. He didn't want to die!

In that last crucial second, his fearful eyes settled upon Young Alfred. He didn't know why, but somehow he knew his son was different. " Son, please! You don't have to listen to her! "

The plead was wasted.

Young Alfred did nothing to stop the needle's descent.

**_-Flash-_**

Back to the present.

Alfred kept his eyes squinted shut, felt the tears sting his cheeks through the corners of his eyes.

Tears?

Had he been...crying? The concept was almost foreign. It was a display of weakness, and a most disgracing one at that. Alexia forbade it. Once, when they were young children, she had caught him crying and slapped him for it, calling him a weak and pathetic excuse of a person. To this day she still did not know that the tears he had shed had been for her, because he'd heard of a horrible accident involving a young girl down in the labs and was worried it had been her.

**_To cry is not weak, to cry is human. _**The Voice offered gently, **_She was wrong to scold you for it._**

From much too near, the air shook with Nosferatu's rage. Alfred didn't dare to open his eyes. He could all too clearly hear the effects the tentacles were having on his sister; sickening smacks and wet crunches betrayed a horrible beating.

_Poor Alexia._

To Alfred's surprise-:-and relief-:-The Voice had no witty retort or smart comment to make on that thought. That was a welcome change. So much pain-:-an overwhelming wave of sadness swept over the former Ashford master, and he was at a loss to explain why.

Screw sadness. Screw pain. Screw _living_. He just wanted it all to stop. The nothingness he had felt in death was preferable to this hell. Heck, even the cruel and inhumane punishments he had served his _victims_ were preferable. God, he'd never imagined...

**_You see the suffering you have caused? _**The Voice was firm but not unkind, **_Not just to your victims. Many people that you killed either directly or indirectly had friends and family who missed them dearly. How would you feel if one of your family was taken from you?_**

_Please, stop. _If translated to spoken words, Alfred's voice would have came out feeble and subdued, _You've won okay? Just let me be._

Another sickening slap, and Alexia cried out. She was just as helpless to escape as he was. It seemed wrong, somehow, that they should ever be on equal standings. She was the queen and he was merely the faithful soldier...

**_It really isn't healthy to think in terms like that, _**The Voice broke in, reading his every thought, **_You are in no way inferior to Alexia._**

Alfred sighed inwardly. He was too weak to offer any response, too tired to argue. Barely breathing, he sagged in his chains. Waited for the monster to get back to his turn, as it inevitably would.

**_You feel regret. _**The Voice sounded slightly amazed, even elated.

__

Maybe. Alfred ventured, unsure. What he wouldn't give for even a fraction of The Voice's strength. _Maybe I had some...less shining moments. Maybe I was just a little too cruel in some circumstances. I never really thought about it when I was doing it...it seemed so natural. I didn't care how the victim felt. But... _now Alfred's mental voice wavered, tinged with doubt,_ even if I wanted to change-:-which I don't-:-but even if I _did_, it's too late. Nothing I can do or say will ever change what I am: a killer._

**_It is never too late, _**The Voice whispered soothingly, **_Things are never that hopeless. _** **_You don't drown by falling into the water, you drown by staying there. Yes, you are a killer, but you don't have to be one forever. You have the power to change that. There is still good in you...Alexia has not washed it away completely._**

Alfred was confused. _I don't understand. How can you say there is good in me after running me through the past? If you really are what you claim to be, then you know what a monster I am. I deserve to die. The only people I ever cared about were my family and myself._

**_There _**is**_ good within you. If you didn't have this spark of light, you would never be able to feel for Alexia or your children. It was very noble what you did for Alexandra. That's the kind of self-sacrifice Alexia could never indulge in, because she could never understand it._** **_You have a greater capacity to feel, to comprehend. Even so, the veil of ignorance has yet to be lifted._**

Alfred's eyes remained tightly closed. Soon Nosferatu would come back around to his turn, and he'd found it helped a little if he couldn't _see_ the source of his pain. Thinking about the monster now, he couldn't help but to think of the man he had once been. Alexander had never been that bad of a guy. Sure, he had never been that _good_ of a guy, but he wasn't the Height of evil. More like the Diet Coke of evil. Alexander's last words as a human raced again through his mind: _" Son, please! You don't have to listen to her! " _At the last moment, he had called to Alfred for help. He hadn't thought anything of it before, but now something about that struck a chord.

Alfred felt like a jackass. For the first time in his life, he regretted standing by idly while Alexia did something deeply immoral. Something he could have prevented. The Voice was right: it was he and Alexia who had placed themselves in this mess, not Veronica. And with that knowledge came a certain truth, a startling truth he never imagined.

In a whisper so quiet it was barely audible, Alfred Ashford said something he'd never dreamed he would ever say, " I'm sorry. Father, please forgive me."

/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/

The change in scenery was instantaneous. Black oblivion brightened into an unnaturally brilliant cerulean sky. The warm rays of a golden sun bathed the beautiful, vibrant courtyard in an ethereal glow. Everything was neat and well cared for. Songbirds sang in harmony from the branches of bushes and trees, and brightly colored hummingbirds buzzed from flower to flower. A gentle spring breeze that was neither too cold nor too hot caressed the healthy greenery, bringing with it the pleasing scents of a dozen fragrant flowers and whisperings of paradise.

_Wow. Where am I? _Alfred looked down and saw that he was in his own body and dressed in the same clothes as before. He was sitting with his legs dangling over the edge of a gorgeous white stone well; the same one he and his sister had played around years ago before either of them had been quite as far gone. It seemed newer now, brighter.

Actually, the entire _area _wasmuch brighter than he'd remembered. Alfred had to blink a few times-:-the glare of the courtyard was blinding in it's brilliance.

At the same time, he was beginning to feel another sensation above, below, around, and within him; an overpowering sensation which tingled the very essence of his soul: love. Pure, unconditional love. It was everywhere around him: in the flowers, the sweet songs of the birds, the warm breeze, the rays of the sun. Everywhere. It encompassed _everything_-:-the very atoms the place was composed of.

The emotion was incredibly powerful. It was as if all the evil in the universe had been destroyed, leaving only this shining, happy place. Not one cloud darkened the sky. Not a single flower looked anything less than perfect.

Alfred was completely overwhelmed. For the first time ever, he was totally at peace. Totally sound of mind and body. Pain did not exist in this reality. The horrific events of Majika Island and his agonizing karmatic trips through the past were nothing more than a distant memory. The love of this place was overwhelming.

For a moment, he just sat there, allowing himself to take it all in. Never before had he experienced such bliss; such warm, unifying love. He never wanted to leave. For once, the world was perfect.

Suddenly, a shimmer of light some 15 feet directly in front of him and halfway down the polished stone path sparkled into existence. Alfred squinted as the purest, whitest light of all blazed into a brilliant sphere, expanding bigger and brighter until he was forced to look away from the burning luminosity. A human figure appeared in the center of the glow. A few seconds later, the light faded to a far more friendly intensity, and when Alfred looked back he was shocked to find himself staring at his mirror image.

Well, maybe '_mirror image' _wasn't the exact term-:-the man standing before him looked like him in every way down to the most minute detail, but unlike him this other Alfred was dressed from head to toe in a pure white gentlemen's outfit, and there was something different about the way he carried himself.

Alfred's first thought was that he was seeing another Past Alfred, but that idea vanished quicker than it had came. Past Alfred could never hope to radiate the warmth, love, and forgiveness this version did.

White Alfred inclined his head slightly to one side and offered Well-Sitting Alfred a kind, gentle smile. At that angle, the sunlight glinting off his straw-blonde hair gave him an almost angelic appearance.

" We meet face to face at last."

Alfred recognized The Voice immediately. " You're the voice! "

White Alfred chuckled good-naturedly. " Yes. I am the voice that's been bugging you. Actually, I'm you're Higher Self. I am you minus your imperfections and hostilities. The veil has been lifted, and a beam of sunlight penetrates the abyss. I am the light of your soul, your beacon in the dark. Veronica's magic has lent me the power to temporarily appear to you in your thoughts, and I shall not waste this opportunity." Here Higher Alfred paused, regarded his flawed counterpart.

Alfred's eyes fluttered with awe and amazement. This was incredible! He opened his mouth to ask the first of a million questions, but no words found fruition at his lips. All he could do was shake his head. For the first time since appearing here, a mildly negative emotion was starting to surface in his mind: confusion.

" Be careful," Higher Alfred warned softly, his voice completely lacking of the snobby, high-pitched tones his double could not help, " This world is of my doing, but you _can _bring your own emotions in to shape it. Then it will not be so inviting."

_Bollocks. Wouldn't want _thatAlfred lowered his head and stared at his feet. That giddy, wonderful feeling he'd been so overwhelmed with upon first arriving here was beginning to dissipate. Now he remembered Majika, and what was happening in the one tower of '_Castle Ashford'_.

" Why do you insist on playing these games? " Alfred whined, his voice much less pleasing than Higher Alfred's, " If your aim is to confuse me, then you're doing a bloody good job of it. You speak in riddles. Why have you chosen to show me this...place? "

Higher Alfred's face fell into a sad half-smile, though his eyes continued to radiate warmth. He looked deeply concerned.

" I am showing you this because you have asked me too." He started towards the well, and Alfred let him approach. " Listen." Higher Alfred sat next to his counterpart, gazed deep into those liquid sapphire eyes. " If you treat a man as he is, he will remain as he is. If you treat him for what he could be, he will become what he could be. You have caused a lot of pain and suffered greatly for it. But the truth is, no matter how much you suffer, it will never be enough. The sins are too many and their weight too great."

" Cheers." Alfred sighed. It was a real challenge not to let his emotions shine through too strongly and ruin the paradise Higher Alfred had created. " Have any other earth-shattering truths? Because that one does absolutely zero for my confidence. I thought you said nothing was ever hopeless."

" I did, and it isn't," Higher Alfred continued, " you can never suffer enough, but you _can _try to make amends for what you have done."

Alfred shook his head and made a face of disgust, as if the very idea was out of the question. " Make amends? You must be joking." He ran a hand over the rough lip of the well, enjoyed the warmth radiating from the heated stone, " You know what I've done..." he stopped, arched an eyebrow at Higher Alfred, " know what _we've_ done. Hey, you're found of riddles, how do you justify _that_? I could be a good little boy scout from here until doomsday. Wouldn't matter. It wouldn't fix a sodding thing, and you know it."

" It could," Higher Alfred answered gently, " if you give it a chance. It's this fatalistic attitude of yours that's holding you back. Admitting you're wrong and then doing nothing to change it is like admitting your car needs gas and then not getting any. It is no sin to try and fail. The only sin is not to try. You're so close to the light, yet you lack the courage to step out into it. Why? "

" I thought you had all the answers." Alfred sneered sarcastically.

Higher Alfred was not offended. " This quality of yours I lack. I am merely trying to get you to be true to yourself. You know that what you did was evil, and a part of you does yearn to atone for your past misdeeds. I can feel it. The thought has crossed your mind even before Veronica ever entered the equation. Yet fear has been holding you back. Fear of loss. All fear is fear of loss. What do you fear you will lose? Speak freely. Ignoring the problem does not make it vanish."

Alfred cast his eyes to the ground, unable to meet his higher self's gaze. His brow drooped, and his face softened in sadness. A single fugitive tear streaked down the side of one cheek.

" Alexia." The sheer helplessness of Alfred's tone surprised even himself. He shut his eyes lightly, stifling back more of the tears he never imagined would form. Slowly, in a voice so soft it was little more than a hushed whisper, he continued, " If I try to make amends, if I change my ways, I'll lose her."

Gingerly, Higher Alfred rested a hand upon his other self's shoulder in a comforting gesture. Had Alfred looked up in that moment, he would have seen the emotional torment he was experiencing reflected on the face of his doppelganger.

" I am afraid you have already lost her." Higher Alfred said somberly, " Alexia is...not yet ready to go down the same road as you. Here is where your paths must part. Choosing to hold yourself back for her sake would be like choosing to remain in kindergarten when you are ready for first grade."

" I love her."

" As do I," Higher Alfred replied kindly, " but standing still for her sake will help neither of us. Life is learning. Some lessons are learned quickly and passed easily. Others are hard and painful. Sometimes the hard way is the only way. Alexia is beyond our help. She refuses to listen to reason. She must find her own way."

" Maybe I could help her..."

Higher Alfred drew back his hand. " You will fail. She will not listen to you and may even try to kill you. I'm sorry, but it is not our place at this point in time and space to help her. She refuses to be helped. To attempt to do so will lead only to disaster."

Alfred jerked his head up abruptly, tear-brimmed eyes flashing with anger. " How can you say that? Veronica hit us both with the same magic, shouldn't _her _higher self be helping _her_ out as well? If it happened to me, why not her? "

" I'm afraid it doesn't work that way."

" Why the bloody hell not! "

" Because you had already begun to change long before Veronica zapped you. In your case, all it did was sponsor those little trips through the past and help bring me out. Alexia was not as fortunate. Her karmic debt cannot yet begin to be settled because she does not possess the capacity to feel for her victims even if she is forced to see through their eyes as you were. She would not understand. It would be like spanking a week old baby for crying. Needless torture that would only serve to further embitter her. "

" You're saying she's a lost case? If she's in that much trouble she needs me! "

" No! Don't you understand? As much as Alexia is holding you back, _you_ are holding _her _back. You have to let go. Don't you see? By letting go you are forcing her to open her eyes. That's _helping_ her. Alexia is not yet able to love anyone, but she does care about you-:-she's _attached_. For now, attachment is the closest she can get to love. As long as she has you tying her down, she cannot evolve spiritually. Don't you see? A person who is receiving handsome alimony checks has no need to go out and look for a job, and therefore misses many opportunities for self-growth. On the same note, Alexia can't learn some of the most important lessons she'll need with you around. Sometimes loss is the only way to gain. The veil of ignorance and the curtain of evil act as a double barrier between her and her higher self. No communication can take place except on only the most minute levels. Alexia is what is known as a black entity. In essence, she is almost soulless. A tiny golden spark remains, but it is but a flicker of light shrouded in a dark fog."

" If she's _sooo_ evil," Alfred drawled, rolling his eyes, " then why hasn't she killed me yet? Why are Ash and Alexandra still alive? We've all done things to make her angry at some point. "

" Because," Higher Alfred explained simply, " evil or not, no one ever wants to be utterly alone. The other Ashfords are all she has in terms of people that halfway care about her. Alexia may not be able to reciprocate love, but she sure does crave it. She gets this love from you, Ash, and Alexandra. Even Alexis loves her to a certain degree. If she were suddenly to lose all of you, she would completely lose what remains of her rational thinking processes in addition to her last spark of goodness. Isolation can do terrible things to a person. Topple kings, crush heroes, destroy warriors...even the mighty are fallen."

Alfred surrendered a weary sigh. So hard to argue with logic. As he had so often heard throughout the course of his life, not being liked didn't stop the truth from being true. _Perhaps it **is **time I leave Alexia. I would be helping her out in the long run. She's strong. She can manage without me._

Alfred turned his gaze skyward. Blinked again in the bright sunlight. For being an ethereal place, this mental heaven teemed with images and sensations which felt all too real. He could even see a few insects crawling about on the blossoms and leaves of the plant life, just as they would in a real earthly setting. He didn't want to leave, but he knew better than to think his stay here was going to be permanent.

Higher Alfred followed his counterpart's eyes, taking in the dreamy, surreal setting and exhaling softly. This truly was paradise, but merely a temporary one. He was going to miss it here. _Then again, I will return someday._

" Have you made up your mind? " The question was directed at Alfred. It was semi-rhetorical-:-since Higher Alfred was merely an aspect of Alfred, he already knew the answer.

Alfred bowed his head, sunlight streaming gold off his straw-colored locks. When he spoke, his voice had never sounded so sane and reasonable. " I will try. Alexis and Alexandra believe in me, so I guess that's one reason to at least make the effort. It will just be so hard..." he trailed off, unsure where he wanted that thought to go.

Higher Alfred sent him a warm smile. " Don't worry. I will always be within you during your darkest moments. Always have, always will be." The smile slipped, " However, I must warn you that when you awake back in the torture room you will again resume your unhinged, cruel persona. You will remember very little if any of the talk we shared here. This memory will fade from your conscious mind, and only your soul will remember."

" What! " Alfred gasped, horrified, " You mean to tell me that I'm really..."

Higher Alfred nodded sadly. " Among other things. The truth is that even if your body is...full of mental problems, your soul never is. You're in spirit form right now, so you are perfectly sane and many of your cruel tendencies have been suppressed. The brief period of ecstasy you experienced up here made you forget your problems on earth. When you awake, you will not consciously remember me or being in this wonderful place. Your former personality will again take hold."

For the first time, the cheery skies began to darken with clouds. The happy songs of the birds were reduced to nervous twitters. A light rain drizzled the area. Flowers sagged and lost their luster as the breeze got colder and the animals sought shelter.

" If I'm not going to remember any of this, then what is the point? " Alfred groused, feeling his spirits dampen with the approaching rain.

Higher Alfred scanned the skies nervously before returning his attention back to Alfred and replying, " I said only your _conscious_ mind would not remember. Your soul will never forget a instant of what went on up here, or the change you decided to make. Whether you realize it or not, this _will_ affect your actions in waking life. Call it an epiphany if you will, or a spiritual awakening. I will be with you even if you don't realize it. Like I said earlier, I _am _you. A part of you you used to largely ignore, true, but by agreeing to try to change you have invited me to have a bigger influence in our life. When you awake, we will be as one once more. No more _The Voice_, as you were fond of calling me, and no more trips into the past."

" What about Nosferatu? "

" Your epiphany has set you free. Think of it as a release on good behavior. That apology you gave him...that was all the spell required to be broken. It doesn't matter that the monster wasn't the real Nosferatu, only that your apology came from the heart."

" Alexia is in trouble." Alfred groaned then looked away, crestfallen. He wished he knew what to do. If only things had been a little different. If only his beloved sister weren't so stubborn.

The rain fell harder. All around the flowers began to wither and die. The once bright sky was smothered with murky clouds. The birds ceased their chirping altogether and huddled together tightly in their leafy havens. Even the dazzling white stone of the well itself could not withstand the impending disaster; it's once blazing image was now faded and marred. Chill winds heralded the arrival of the approaching storm.

In the midst of this growing gloom, Higher Alfred's stunning white aura shone as brilliantly as before-:- an ubiquitous light in the darkness. Though his outward expression appeared sad and contemplative, his ocean blue eyes sparkled with hope. _At last. It's about time. Speaking of which..._

Their time here was quickly waning.

Higher Alfred turned back to face his less-than-perfect doppelganger, who was still sitting motionlessly on the lip of the well; a forlorn look in his eyes. It was time to say goodbye. Well, not _goodbye_ in the traditional sense of the word, since they would always be an inseparable part of each other, but goodbye in the not-talking-out-loud-to-an-aspect-of-yourself-anymore sense.

" Well, we'd better get moving then. Veronica's magic here is ending and my ability to manifest in this way is likewise restricted. Very soon I will revert back to being the small voice confined to the back of your consciousness. Remember, reject hatred without hating. Forgive those who have wronged you..."

At Alfred's funny look he chuckled and added, " or at least try not to _kill_ them, okay? " he awarded his counterpart a lopsided grin, " You know, do unto others as you would have them do unto you and all that clichéd crap. I'll be there to help when you need it, but whether or not you choose to listen to me is entirely up to you. And please..." Higher Alfred wrinkled his nose by way of disgust, " don't pander to the illusion that Alexia is your better. No one can make you feel inferior without your consent."

Alfred was just about to ask how he could possibly remember this advice if he was doomed to forget everything said up here anyway when a blazing flash of light split the air between them like lightning. The world faded silently into a white oblivion.

/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/

__

I'm sorry. Father, please forgive me.

Alexia's head whipped around at the metallic sound of chains snapping and clanging against bare stone. To her utter amazement, an unconscious Alfred dropped to the floor in an unceremonious heap; his body twitching and spasming out of control.

Nosferatu was there instantly. Throwing his head back in a terrible, shrieking scream, he loomed over his fallen prey and...froze. It was as if a switch had been flicked. Bowing his head, the inhuman monster moaned quietly and swayed from side to side, as if in a drunken stupor. The violent, ever-lashing tentacles so well adapted for cutting flesh slowed to a sleepy pace and sagged to the floor like limp vines, barely even twitching. One razor-tipped appendage slithered to within an inch of Alfred's nose. Though he was easily close enough to deal out some serious damage to the frail form sprawled out temptingly before him, the Nosferatu beast hesitated, unsure.

_" What gives? " _Was a phrase Ash so often used whenever he didn't understand something, and it was pretty much the condensed version of the thoughts running through Alexia's mind now. Thinking that maybe Veronica's magics had worn off, or that maybe the torture was finally over, the ex Ashford Mistress struggled and thrashed violently in her chains, hoping to snap them the way Alfred's had.

No such luck. Whatever miracle had saved her twin was not doing any favors for her. Even using all of her strength she could barely wiggle the taut chains hugging her body so tightly to the wall. An angry frown darkened her features. Alexia was not a happy little scientist. Desperately, she surveyed the scene before her, searching for any possible clues as to why a magic-induced demon would suddenly have a change of heart.

Then an idea presented itself: _Moments before he fell, he screamed something about forgiveness. Maybe if I employ the same technique I will be spared as well. _It was worth a shot.

Fighting back all of her pride and self-consciousness, Alexia sucked in a deep breath and shouted, " Father! I am sorry as well! Please accept my most sincere apologies! " It took all the willpower she possessed to manage that small outburst. _This had better be worth it._ The words left a bad taste in her mouth, and she felt ridiculous for stooping so low.

After waiting about three full seconds, she again tested her bonds.

Solid as ever.

This was getting frustrating.

Off to the other side of room, Nosferatu showed no indication that he had even heard her; a fact which greatly annoyed the queen of the anthill. Where was the point in dishing out a tearfully moving apology if the recipient didn't even grace you with the decency to listen? She may just as well have been apologizing to the ceiling. Alexia rolled her eyes. _The only time I shall ever apologize to him_, _and the wanker doesn't even glance my direction. This is folly. What was I think..._

" The difference is that he really meant what he said, and you did not."

" I beg your pardon?" Alexia was caught off-guard. Instantly, her eyes shifted to the source of this new yet oddly familiar-sounding voice.

At first she thought she was seeing double. There, standing not twenty feet directly in front of her, was a fine-featured, blonde-haired man who appeared to be the spitting image of her twin brother, and Alexia was forced to quickly glance back at her fallen sibling lest her eyes deceive her. They hadn't. Her Alfred was still laying motionless across the floor, out like a light. Nosferatu remained perched menacingly over him-:-the scariest Halloween statue. Neither figure budged an inch.

When Alexia looked back, this new, cleaner Alfred had not moved either, allowing her to take a good long look at him. For all the world, it looked exactly like Alfred Ashford. The face, body, and build were all perfectly identical, minus the blood of course. Outwardly, the only difference in appearance was the pure white uniform this Alfred wore which vaguely resembled Unconscious Alfred's usual style. He also glowed with a faint white aura, a fact which both surprised and intrigued Alexia.

Yet there was something more, something that went beyond physical appearances. Alexia couldn't quite put her finger on it, but she knew instantly that this Alfred was different than the version she was used to. He was too confident, too self-assured. The straight, no-nonsense posture with which he conducted himself suggested that he was strong and unafraid, two traits the real Alfred could only envy.

" Who are you? " Alexia snapped in greeting. It was one of those rare instances in life where she had absolutely no idea what was going on, a fact which infuriated her immensely.

Higher Alfred merely shook his head, a pitying frown shadowing the edges of his mouth. " I'm someone who loves you more than you'll ever know and wishes you'd come back to the light. Continue down this path and you are destined for failure."

Alexia snorted in disgust." Who are you to be giving me morality lessons? I know better than anyone else how to care for myself! " It never occurred to the former child prodigy how silly those two sentences sounded when shouted from the lips of a tortured woman hanging from chains in the tower-equivalent of a dungeon.

Higher Alfred sighed wearily. She looked so helpless tied there to that wall by her own selfish pride. Messy, blood-caked hair hung in limp clumps against the backdrop of an equally as bloody face. Alexia's mouth was set in a hardened line; her ice-blue eyes spewed poison. Clearly this was not the visage of someone open to reason. If only there were more he could do. If only Alexia would for once, just once, put aside all of her hostilities listen from the heart.

Of course, this being Alexia, there was a better chance of life on Mercury.

Still, he had to try." Alexia, _please_," there was so much sadness packed into that one little word that, despite her initial fervor, Alexia could not help but to listen, " just listen to me. You have to let go of your hate. It is never to late to change things for the better. Life is what you make of it, and right now you're making yours a living hell. All along you've had the power to make it better, yet you choose the hard, painful road. Why? Why do you choose to live this way? With each day that passes you're destroying yourself. Do you have any idea how painful this is to watch? Keep it up and you'll be your own undoing."

For a moment, Alexia just hung there, gaping in disbelief at the apparition before her. This couldn't be right. Sure, it _looked _like the real Alfred, but it certainly didn't _sound_ like him, and not just in the context of the words. The real Alfred could never get his voice to sound so level and steady, so _unannoying_. In fact, this Alfred barely possessed any traces of a British accent at all. He even sounded faintly Swedish, as absurd as that was.

" You're not Alfred," Alexia hissed irritably, " merely an illusion conjured up by Veronica."

Higher Alfred was not offended. " Your heart deceives you, Alexia. You hide from the truth even when it is standing at your front door. You cannot keep hiding forever. To prolong the inevitable is to prolong your own suffering. You want it to end, don't you? "

Alexia was, at least for the moment, speechless. Never before had she been so completely dumbfounded by another person, much less her own _brother_. If she'd had her doubts before, now she was certain beyond the shadow of a doubt that this version of her devoted twin must be an imposter. Alfred didn't _talk_ like that. That inferior soldier-ant of a brother lacked the sharp wit and diction with which this faux Alfred conducted himself perfectly. Furthermore, ( and this was perhaps the most important detail ), Alfred would never, _ever_ try to convince her to change her ways. He loved the bloodlust as much as she did. Reveled it. Embraced it. This...this _White Alfred _sounded more and more like a hopped-up version of Alexandra every time he spoke. Briefly, her eyes flickered to the left, where the real Alfred, _her_ Alfred, lay motionless on the floor.

Thankfully, he was still breathing, but now his breaths were long and drawn, as if he were in a deep sleep. Or a coma. Alexia concentrated her thoughts towards him.

(( Alfred! Alfred wake up! ))

No reply.

Whatever had happened, it had left Alfred out cold and Nosferatu in a dazed dream-like state. While it was nice to see the Master of Pain standing around impersonating the Washington Monument, it would be even nicer if the real Alfred would please wake up and get to work freeing her. For _loving_ her so much, this false Alfred would rather lecture her than help her.

Alexia felt like throttling him.

Any minute now Nosferatu could decide to snap out of his stupor, and once he did it was back to being beaten to within an inch of her life. Literally. With friends like that, who needed Chris Redfield?

Still, if he was going to insist on hanging around, she may as well at lest t_ry _to get him to make himself useful. Turning back to Higher Alfred, she said, " If you care about me so much, then why don't you free me? That abomination's not going to stay like that forever and..."

" I can't free you." Higher Alfred cast his eyes to the side, no longer able to meet his sister's gaze, " The chains which bind you to the wall are not made of iron and steel but of hatred, pride, and cruelty. You and Veronica alone have the power to break them. Open your eyes to the truth-:-you are your own worst enemy. Veronica could never treat you worse than you treat yourself."

" Enough! " Alexia barked, " You speak utter nonsense! Of course these chains are real. They hold me here, do they not? If you really love me quit playing with metaphors and tell me what to do! "

" I _have_ been telling you what to do." Higher Alfred returned sadly, his soft voice only a few notches above a whisper, " You haven't been listening. I can give you the instructions, but I can't force you to _follow_ them. You must do this on your own, of your own free will."

" Do _what_ on my own! "

The moment had finally arrived. Nosferatu apparently realized that he was standing around like a stiff and decided to get back to doing what he did best. Stepping away from Alfred, he began moving towards Alexia, and her fears intensified.

Higher Alfred clearly did not plan to help. His barely there, ghostlike image was already dematerializing; breaking apart into the individual light photons. He took so long answering that at first Alexia feared he would fade into nothingness before he had the chance. But no, he locked eyes with her one last time, his expression grave and sincere.

When he spoke, his words were so gentle and his voice flowed so smoothly that he didn't sound like Alfred in any respect. " Open your heart. Embrace the truth, and try to set right what you have made wrong. Learn to love yourself and others as much as I love you. I pity you, Alexia, and pray that you will find the way."

Then he vanished. As simple as that.

Alexia looked on with a grudging air of disbelief." Well _that _wasn't very helpful." She grumbled.

/-/-/-/-/-/-/

Alfred awoke to the sounds of torture. Something big with a nasty temper was stomping around and beating on something else, and it wasn't being quiet about it either.

_Huh? Where am I? _Alfred's dazed mind struggled for coherent thought. He was laying on his side against something cold and hard..._a stone floor._

The memories jumped back to him in an instant: Ash's fencing lesson, the teacup, Veronica, Majika Island, torture..._torture! _Alfred leapt to his feet in a hurry, his adrenal glands having been jump-started by the brutal array of images assaulting his mind.

He had to help! He had to get free and...wait. He was already free.

Alfred stared in amazement at the broken metal cuffs dangling from his area of the wall. How had that happened? It seemed unlikely that Nosferatu would suddenly have a change of heart. Not that he was complaining.

" Alfred! Do something! " Alexia's voice snapped his mind back to more pressing matters.

The monster! He'd almost forgotten about it.

If Nosferatu knew he was free, he didn't seem to care. The monster was far too busy giving Alexia her fifty lashes.

" Hey! Over here! " Alfred called loudly, hoping to draw the beast's attention. The Tentacled Terror ignored him.

Alexia rolled her eyes. " You're going to have to do better than that, Brother Dear."

Alfred nodded sadly. Of course. He couldn't stop Nosferatu. No-one could, except..." I'm going to find Veronica and make her free you!"

" Come again? " Alexia could not believe her ears. Why was it that everyone and their sister thought that bringing that damned Veronica back would make things better? _Have they all gone mad? She's the bitch who put me here! _It made _no_ sense. No sense at all. _Then again, Alfred has a better chance of convincing her to save me than he does of getting Nosferatu to stop on his own. _" Er, go ahead." She was too tired to argue anyway.

Alfred nodded seriously and gave a proud soldier's salute. " I will not fail you, my queen. I promise." He turned on his foot and disappeared out the door.

Alexia gave a disheartened sigh. Now she had a daughter _and_ brother pushing for her freedom. For some reason that thought did little to comfort. Silently, she gauged her chances for freedom.

Alfred was fiercely loyal to her, she knew, but sadly he was lacking in every other department. Alexandra, though fiercely loyal and a heck of a lot stronger and braver than her father, became distracted too easily. This was not looking good. _I don't know which is worse...being beaten from now until doomsday by this walking salad shooter or having to depend on a pair of incompetents to free me. _What a depressing thought.

Like it or not, if Veronica _did _show up, Alexia was going to have to beg for her mercy.

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/

**A/N/R: **_Whew! And there you go. Next chapter will be a light-hearted relief from all of this dark stuff. There will be humor, and...Wesker! And he will get to do something evil. _((Nods)) _First Hylen piece will also be found._

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A single tear fugitive tear streked own the side of cheek.

See any problems with the above sentence?

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It's an un-beta'd sentence!

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We have the classical symptoms of missing words, mis-spelled words, wrong words ( thanks to my spell-check automatically assuming what word I intended to type ), and repeated words. These evil typo trolls drive me nuts! They can take the best stories and maim them! Sadly, being the writer of this fic, many of these are near impossible for me to detect before I post. After all, while a writer is good at spotting the errors in other stories, this is much harder to do for your own fics. You already know what you've written, so your eyes tend to gloss over the small stuff. In this case there is only one thing to do:

I would like to formerly announce my desire for a volunteer beta to catch these little quirks for me. :D Your reward for doing this will be my eternal gratitude and beta-ing credits for each chapter you beta. I will also repay you in the form of fanfic favors if you'd like. :-) I'm not going to hold you to strict time-frames...as long as you think you will be able to get the material back to me within 3 to 4 days it's okay by me. I do realize that most of my chapters are kinda longish and people may need extra time, but it's worth it to me to not have a piece of work that's riddled with random typos.

So...if you'd like to apply for the job, email me with the link now provided in the top of my bio or state so in a review. Be sure to leave me with your email so I can get in contact with you. I will gladly accept more than one beta so the pressure won't be on just one person all the time.

Thanks, and please review!

Shady-777

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Synch 14: You are absolutely right. Thank you.

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LegendarySuperNamek: Heheh, yeah. I have a different view on chaos as well. I just needed something to fit with the story, so voila! As for your question about Discord, it will definitely come to light later on. At this point I am deliberately leaving the reader in the dark.

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Sych77: The idea to add Circe came when I was playing my "Age Of Mythology" game. I've always been fascinated by Greek Mythology. I know quite a bit about all the various gods and goddesses. I thought Circe would be a nice touch because, hey, she's another sorceress, and I've always wanted to write something about her! Thank you as well for the complement on Veronica-:-I have some interesting things in store for her. ( And the reader! )

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YamiYumes: I love to surprise! Thanks for the review.

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Shaoken: College is evil. Really. I used to update once a week before I enrolled. Now I I am happy if I can update once a month. Thanks for reading.

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Overshadowed Malice: Thank you so much for the in-depth review! ((hugs)) I'm frightfully sorry I haven't been about on AIM much, I will try to be on more over the next few days.

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Jenny: Wow! A non-RE fan reading my saga? ((faints)) I am flattered! Thank you so much for bringing your grumble to light. I hate Mary Sue and try to avoid her. Are you sure it's **Alexis **and not **Alexandra ** that's got you on edge? Of all my characters, I've always thought that Alexandra is the most Mary Sueish, and I am doing that on purpose as a plot point. However, this is not the case with Alexis.

So...are you sure it's not Alexandra? If it really is Alexis, please do let me know in another review. ( Or email, whichever you prefer ) I am really trying hard not to Mary-Sue her, and if you help me pinpoint what I am doing wrong I will definitely try my damndest to fix it. Once again, thank you so much for being honest. (( hands you a snack of your choice))

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Savage Worlds: Thank you! I am well known for miraculously resurrecting the Ashfords. They died in the games, but I really, **really** didn't want them to, so I just used my author powers and wrote them back. That's the fun thing about fan fiction. Just because characters are dead doesn't mean they have to STAY that way. Yep. This is definitely more fantasy than science-fiction, though I am trying to blend the two.

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Sci-Fi-Reader: Thank you! Good luck with your fics! V

**IhavetheT-2Virus: **You're always much too kind. ((melts)) Anyway, Veronica and Wesker will be in the next chapter. Promise. I was going to have them in this one, but I kinda got carried away with other things. Sorry.

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The Terrapin: Valerian? It's the name of a sedative, actually. ((blushes)) I knew I had heard it before, but I didn't know where. Then one of my friends mentioned it, and I was like, Ooookay. But I liked it, so I kept it. It was partially inspired by my mother's name, actually. Her name is Valerie.

Aha! Nice insight. Very nice insight.

I'm not planning on getting more mice. I barely have time for the ones I have.

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Serpentia: Erm, something tells me you're an Alexia fan. You'd never guess it from reading these, but she's actually one of my favorite Resi characters. I don't want to give much away, but I will say that Alexia will eventually get off the rack and kick someone's ass.

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Kisu-Ayla: Hylen piece Number One to be found next chapter!

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Deviljin17: Thanks. I'll have a look.

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	32. Chapter Title Pending

**A/N: **

_Hello. cringes According to my FF stats, it's been over a year since I last updated. I uh…I really don't have anything to say about that, other that I feel better for having taken the break and I hope to hit back hard with this story, which is by far the longest I have ever written. So if anyone out there is still reading this, I'll be surprised, but in a pleasant way._

_This is about half of Chapter 32. I don't have the other half finished quite yet, but I would like some input on this before I go on, just to see who's reading and what their opinions are. Please do not be afraid to critique me on grammar, spelling, and/or plot. I am mature enough to handle an honest review and I WILL NOT come unglued on you or harshly review your fics for revenge or anything like that. I've found that honest opinions really help my writing._

**Chapter 32**

" So...this is a really kickass place, huh? " Veronica asked for about the fifth time that evening. Over a half hour of gleefully displaying her impenetrable fortress, her crowning achievement, and her company had said very little. In fact, his frosty silence was almost unnerving. Veronica didn't know why--it wasn't like Wesker would ever be able to come out on top in another fight--but something about Mr. Tall Dark and Blonde was giving her a mild case of what her internet-sources commonly referred to as " the wiggens."

Especially the way his neutral expression seemed to be his _only _expression. Wesker didn't even bother with a glance at his new ally. " Yes, Veronica. This place is most impressive." There was a trace of suppressed resentment in his voice.Not that Veronica noticed. The sorceress was terrible at reading people and even worse at judging true character. Truly, she had no idea how dangerous the man walking at her side was, or how quickly he would turn on her if it suited his interest.

The pair turned a corner and headed down yet another elaborate hall.

Emphasis on _elaborate_.

Like almost all the other corridors in the castle, this one boasted a bloodred carpet so rich in hue and vibrancy that it seemed only kings should walk on it. Obsidian dragon sconces graced the walls with their fiery presence. They were arranged in such a way that they appeared to be fiercely guarding their glowing candle treasures. Even the garnet eyes seemed aglow with a primordial light which caught the viewer by surprise and held him there in a sort of spellbinding enchantment.

_Fancy Veronica, very fancy. _Wesker had to admit that the sorceress had style. He'd seen practically the entire castle by now and it was amazing just how immaculate and eye-catching everything looked.

Dragons, he'd noticed, were a common theme throughout the entire abode. Just about every room he'd toured thus far had had a dragon in it in some form or another; whether as a statue, a coat-rack, a furniture decoration, or a lighting fixture. Quite a few dragons were employed in the service of lighting.

A true medieval sorceress, Veronica enjoyed a more old-school feel to her home, and all of the lighting came from candles with not so much as one modern light-bulb in sight. Even the furniture was old-fashioned. The designs ranged from Renaissance-era to early 1800's. All of it was European in origin, and all of it looked rather new; suggesting to Wesker that Veronica was able to conjure matter out of thin air since very few such artifacts would have survived into the 21st century. Certainly fewer than what this ditz had languishing about.

" And in here we have my personal favorite--the recreational room! " Veronica swung open a black oak door--yes, _black_ oak--with a dragon carving on it and led the way into yet another room.

Wesker groaned inwardly.

Was this tour ever going to be over?

_My god, how many of these stupid rooms does she have! You've seen one rec room, you've seen them... _Wesker's flow of thought was disrupted the second he actually entered the room.

Unlike the other hundred or so rooms in the castle, this one was decked out very _modern_. The first thing he noticed was that the light was supplied from an actual 100-watt light-bulb. This observation took all of one second, however, as the rest of the room's contents were infinitely more interesting.

Lining the left wall in all it's high-tech glory sat a brand new state-of-the-art computer system. The high-resolution monitor, sleek tower, and sharp keyboard were all "prettied up" in a preppy shade of fuchsia which made the self-respecting former HCF operative wish he were colorblind.

Then his eye drifted over to the mouse pad, and nothing could have prepared him for the horror.

There it was.

It's head was a misshapen yellow square pocketed with irregular holes. It's eyes were two white saucers far too large in proportion to the rest of the creature. A nose as long as a flute sprouted from the center of it's face, and just below this a gaping mouth several sizes too big grinned in that idiotic way which would haunt sensible adults for years to come.

This was a creature of inconceivable power--no matter how guarded you thought you were against it, there was just no way to keep it's evil influence out of your home. The beast had the power to brainwash anyone unfortunate enough to cross paths with it; to turn minds into mush, intelligent adults into children so warped in their sense of humor they'd laugh at just about anything.

This was a force to be reckoned with, a creature even Wesker feared—Spongebob.

Veronica was _definitely _evil.

Oh yeah.

And insane.

Thankfully, the rest of the room wasn't quite as scary. The right wall was home to a complex stereo system with speakers so massive they were probably capable of blowing the opposing computer system right on out through the stone wall and into next week when the volume was cranked to full blast.

Apparently, this music-loving sorceress had hearing problems. If not, she would very soon.

Just like the computer, the stereo rested on it's very own entertainment center only, surprise surprise, this large wooden obstruction had the word '_Sauder_' engraved within one corner.

_Just as I suspicioned_, Wesker thought, _This one required absolutely **no** thought on her part. Must take too much mental power to dream up your own brand of furnitu_re. Because his eyes were especially keen, the T-2 carrier could make out every label of the neatly-stacked CDs lining one shelf. He instantly wished he hadn't been so morbidly curious.

In addition to an unhealthy amount of Alison Krauss, the lineup included some Good Charlotte, several Shania Twain albums, The Backstreet Boys, N-Sync, Linkin Park, various country singers, a ridiculous amount of Avril Lavigne, and every Evanescence CD ever made. Ever.

That last struck Wesker as a little odd. From what he could tell about Veronica so far, she seemed to have a very upbeat, ditzy, cheerful persona.

Evanescence were about as far away from that as you could get. He should know. They were Spade's favorite band, and she played them constantly.

The center of the room was highlighted with an overstuffed plush sofa which would have been a magnificent piece of furniture if not for the tacky fuchsia color. Sitting directly across from it was the pride of the entire room: an extremely elegant black oak entertainment center which showcased a brand-new 32-inch Sony high-resolution TV, a state-of-the-art DVD player, and every video-game console available on the market. Playstation 2, X-Box, Gamecube, Sega Dreamcast...Veronica had them all. She also had an impressive assortment of games to go with them.

Wesker didn't have time to count, but there were no less than one hundred video games glaring back at him from behind the glass of the gaming cabinets. This was a woman who liked her fun and games.

" Well, what do you think? " Veronica chirped in that overly-cheerful voice of hers. She reached the couch and turned back to face her guest with outstretched arms and a winning smile. Her older, more mature appearance had since been dropped in favor of the teenaged form she now possessed.

It was all just as well with Wesker. Air-headed mallcrawler suited her personality so much better than anything else. Besides, an older woman would have looked ridiculous assuming any one of the over-exaggerated postures and expressions that were second-nature to Veronica.

" Not too tacky, 'ey? "

_This takes 'tacky' to a new level. And beyond. _Wesker really had to bite his tongue. " Um...sure. It's...modern." He had a sudden urge to flash around and smash up those annoying fuchsia _things_. How could one color be so irritating? He crossed his arms and gave a curt nod, hoping his fashion-challenged hostess would hurry on to the next room or whatever it was she had in mind. " I see you like video games."

He'd said the magic word.

Veronica's eyes sparkled with glee. " Video games? I _love_ them! Well, I haven't had much time to play lately, but I'm pretty good at this one."

Before Wesker could stop her, the 512 year-old sorceress hit the sofa with the force of an oncoming train, curled up into a comfy position, and held out her hand like she expected somebody to walk by and drop something into it. A second later, and the TV and PS2 turned on all by themselves. A controller nudged it's way out of the cabinet and floated gracefully into the outstretched hand.

" This game's pretty fun, but kinda frustrating." Veronica went on as if Wesker had said something, " The main character is a demon halfbreed, I think."

After the initial opening credits which, apparently, not even Veronica's magic could speed up, the words '_Devil May Cry 3' _appeared in red over a hazy picture of a young man with white hair and twice the fashion-sense of Veronica. Time stood still as the Ashford loaded her game. She'd only had brief time to practice, true, but the first few minutes of gameplay had hooked her and now she was quite sure that the internet had not been exaggerating even a little bit when it had deemed the game " _Delightfully addicting! A must-play! "_

At the back of the room, Wesker rubbed his temple with a gloved finger. It was insulting how quickly Veronica had been willing to turn her back on him--as if he were of no more threat to her than some little puppy scampering loose around the room. He really wanted to hurt her. Badly.

" Miss Ashford, while I appreciate your fine taste in games, I do believe I have yet to see the rest of the castle." He tried to keep the edge out of his voice.

" Just a sec." Veronica's eyes were glued to the television. Onscreen, the sword-wielding, gun-toting, white-haired protagonist slashed his way through a legion of sand-wraiths. All was well until one particularly tough wraith knocked him on his butt.

" Danté! No! Get up! " Veronica shouted, as if this would somehow help. She began to pound fiercely on the buttons.

" Looks like you could use some practice." Wesker observed.

" No! I mean, I'm usually..." An entire squadron of wraiths moved in for the kill. Danté's health dropped to a dangerously low level. " Could you check to see if anyone's in the hall real quick? "

Wesker's neutral expression slipped into a frown. _What a space cadet. _" Alright."

The second Wesker had his back turned, Veronica wiggled her finger and filled Danté's health meter. Much better. _What's the use in having magic if you can't cheat every now and then? And if I'm going to cheat a little_...it was simply too much temptation.

" It's clear." Wesker came back in to find Veronica kicking sand-wraith butt. _This is the girl who defeated Alexia Ashford? How embarrassing. _

It was like the punch line to a joke. He almost felt sorry for Alexia.

Almost.

Wesker covered his mouth and made a soft coughing noise. " Veronica..."

" Oh! Alright. I'm coming." She tossed her controller to the floor and made a downward swipe with her hand which caused everything to shut off. That accomplished, she got up and led the way out the door. " I am sorry," the apology was quick and energetic, " I am easily distracted."

_You can say that again. _Wesker rolled his eyes, thankful for the dark shades which hid the disrespectful motion.

He needn't have worried; Veronica was more concerned with the wall than him. Nothing new there. In fact, ever since entering the castle, she'd barely made eye-contact at all. Perhaps there was still a small drop of sense hiding somewhere in that tiny brain of hers.

" Now there's only one more place to..."

" Veronica? " Ash appeared suddenly and unexpectedly from a door to the left. He took one look at Wesker, and his eyes glossed over in pure terror. _Oh god, not **him**!_

Wesker's grin was that of a wolf bearing down on it's prey. " Hello, Ash. Lovely scars. Tell me, how does it feel to see through the eye of another? "

Ash's mouth worked, but no sound came out. On impulse, his hand rose up to hover just above his new eye. Gingerly, he touched a finger to the flesh just above it; feeling the rough, furrowed edges of his scars. The tissue had still not completely healed in some areas.

Wesker chuckled cruelly. Though he hadn't actually witnessed the events, he could pretty well guess as to what had transpired after he'd stabbed the young Ashford in the face with the sharp metal tips of his clawblades, destroying his left eye. " An eye for an eye, 'ey? I bet that made Mommy proud."

Ash whimpered like a lost puppy.

Wesker's smile broadened.

In the midst of this, Veronica blinked, thoroughly confused. " You two know each other? "

" We had a...run-in in Africa." Wesker explained calmly, savoring every drop of his victim's fear. This was too good. If only Veronica weren't around, he'd finish what he'd started months ago.

As if reading the ex S.T.A.R.S. Captain's thoughts, Ash darted behind his ancestor, fearful blue eyes fixed firmly on the man who had very nearly killed him. He had absolutely no desire to repeat that experience again. Much as he loathed his chores-obsessed family-torturing ancestor, she was by far the lesser of two evils and the only protection he had. For once, he was glad she was around.

" He gouged out my eye! " Ash's words were a flurry of terror-driven excitement, " That's Albert Wesker, a carrier of the T-2 virus! You can't trust him, Veronica. He's very powerful and he hates our family! " He grabbed her arm in a fashion much akin to a frightened child clinging to it's mother for dear life.

Veronica tugged away, annoyed. She wasn't sure which was worse--cowardly Ash, or his in-your-face-all-work-and-no-play mother.

" It's alright," she replied coolly, locking a no-nonsense gaze on Wesker, " he and I have already fought, and I bested him. Now he's on my side. I was just showing him around the castle."

" But he's a traitor! " Ash exclaimed, horrified immensely at the prospect of Wesker being allowed to roam the castle freely, " He's like, _famous _for it. Long history. He betrayed S.T.A.R.S., he betrayed Umbrella, he betrayed HCF, and now he's going to betray _you_! "

Veronica was unmoved. In her mind it was all painfully simple. _Betray me? Him? Hah. He wouldn't get far_. In all her long life, no one had ever dared to betray her. The concept was foreign. Treachery was for the weak to deal with. Not her. Not ever her.

" Ash, I assure you, there is absolutely no danger. Wesker won't harm you."

Despite Veronica's attempt to reassure him, Ash remained unconvinced. " To hell he won't! "

Wesker's grin stayed put. Few things in life were as satisfactory as watching an all-noble _Ashford_ cringe like a dog behind his master. Although, for all his cowardice, he had to give the boy some credit. At least he knew a poisonous snake when he saw one.

Veronica had had enough. " He _won't_." She declared matter-of-factly, as if it were an unchangeable fact set in stone. Her face hardened, her eyes blazed a deep violet, and when she next spoke her words were deadly serious, " You understand, Wesker? Ash is my family. He has my full protection, as do the other Ashfords. You are not to harm any one of them. You do, your ass is grass and I'm the lawnmower. Got it? "

There was no room for argument.

Wesker held his hands up in the classic gesture. " Don't worry about it. Consider me Ashford-safe." As always, his tone was relaxed and level; his face an outward expression of blasé.

It was, of course, all a charade.

Aligning yourself with a super-powerful sorceress was one thing, but when that sorceress turned out to be an airheaded Ashford-loving twit with less than half the IQ of candied yams...well, that was a whole new potato salad. The more time he spent around her, the more Wesker wondered how such a complete and total failure of human life had ever acquired such power. No matter how he tried to make sense of it, he just couldn't. It did provide him with a sliver of hope though: if someone like Veronica could attain such a favorable position, it shouldn't be too hard for him to get on top of the game as well.

And getting on top of the game was what Albert Wesker was all about.

How to play the game? Simple.

You went where the power was, and right now Wesker couldn't think of a single thing more powerful than the woman standing five feet from him. Anyone who could shapeshift, walk on air, teleport, throw lightning bolts, and create matter just by willing it into existence could most certainly thrash HCF and every horrible bioweapon it could dish up.

With or without Alan, it didn't matter; S.T.A.R.S. were doomed.

Veronica was the winning side.

All Wesker had to do was play his cards just right and execute a little bit--okay, a LOT--of patience, and he would learn Veronica's little secrets. The redheaded Ashford might be the biggest fool in the world, but let that work to his advantage. Learning all there was to know about her magics and what made her tick was definitely worth the hassle of putting up with her flawed persona. The reward for such knowledge would be inconceivably great.

Veronica studied Wesker with rising interest. She was not so naïve as to think that the face he was showing her was his true one, but for all her great power, she was still unable to read minds. More and more, she found herself curious as to what he was thinking. Something about this handsome new soldier tingled alarms in the back of her mind. But why?

_I'm just jumping at shadows here._ Veronica reassured herself, _He is powerless against me. He knows this. He will not try anything. That's why I allowed him in here in the first place; the plan. Until my dreams are made a reality it can't hurt to have a little back-up just in case something goes wrong. After I am Queen of the New World, I won't need him anymore. _A slow smile crept up the side of her mouth. _Maybe I'll turn him into a kitty-cat. _The former wiccan inclined her head slightly, picturing Wesker as a pure black kitten.

" Um, Veronica..." Ash started in a voice was barely more than a squeak. Wesker moved, and he jumped back blindly; nearly knocking the back of his head against the hard wall.

Wesker's smirk deepened. _Clever boy._

Veronica merely shook her head and suppressed a girly giggle. The boy clearly had much to learn in the department of coordination. _Much like me._

She cleared her throat. " Go on then, Ash. You can...play my video games or...whatever. Wesker and I have things to do."

_You mean I'm free from chores? _Ash didn't waste the opportunity. Slipping past Wesker with an expression much akin to a hunted animal, he hurried inside the black-oak door.

Veronica watched him go dispassionately before turning around and continuing her way down the hall. " Come on."

_**To be continued…..**_


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